Sorry guys, but I couldn't help it. I truly do live in DenialLand where 
No One Dies, No One EVER Dies.......not even a dog!


Perry the Vamp-dog, Epilogue
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Teri, darius4evr@hotmail.com


Screed pushed his bicycle in front of him, humming and be-bopping happily to 
himself while his carouche senses were searching the darkly shadowed alley 
for any sign of rats. He was a little further out than he usually wandered 
in his never-ending search for blood, but the never-forgotten memories from 
his long distant mortal past often brought him down to the water for no 
apparent reason. Following the scent of rats nearby, Screed found himself in 
a section he usually tried to avoid. Not that a vampire had much to fear from 
anything, especially near his beloved wharfs, but there were some really 
nasty critters that lived down here on the edge of civilization, things that 
rarely saw the light of day. Things that most mortals, sleeping contentedly 
in their cozy little beds, would probably not be able to comprehend.

The carouche paused, his sailor's song silenced mid-verse as he listened 
intently. He sniffed the air cautiously. Nothing stirred in the shadows, but 
his senses fairly screamed at him that SOMEthing had happened here.....
recently. Propping his bike against the wall, he proceeded carefully, probing 
a little deeper into the darkness. The smells of garbage and filth were 
strong in the alley, but there was something *else* as well.....something 
somehow familiar......

Screed stopped, mysteriously loathe to go any further. Never would he admit 
to being *afraid*, not the Screed-man, not a carouche! Still, there was 
something unnerving down here in the night air. He turned slowly, 
thinking it was time to head for home and the more familiar smells of his 
own private sewer, when his incredibly sharp vampire vision caught a glimpe 
of movement. Wavy, golden hair riffled gently in the breeze, or at least he 
thought it *used* to be golden. It was a little difficult to be sure, as dark 
and blood-soaked as it was now. No, what was actually blowing around was 
clean and definitely blonde.

Curiosity was one thing the bald carouche had plenty of, and he was drawn 
forward to investigate. Did some buxom wench meet an untimely end here? He'd 
liked blondes in his day. Truth be told, while his blood-lust was for the 
ratly type, he still enjoyed a nibble or two on a wench from time to time. 
But curiosity was soon satisfied as Screed gazed disappointedly down on the 
scattered remains of what must have been a beautiful dog. A Golden Retriever, 
if he remembered his breeds right. He, himself, had never had the pleasure 
of owning a dog. In his mortal days as a sailor, his experience with animals 
tended to be limited to ship cats and the rats they fed on. Not much use for 
dogs on a boat. But in 450 years of Unlife, he'd met quite a few and had 
always marveled at their undying devotion and dedication to their Master.

For a reason he didn't quite understand, Screed knelt beside the ravaged dog 
and stroked what was left of the soft golden fur. As his hand touched the 
partly eaten carcass, his vampire senses jangled sharply. There was another 
vampire nearby! With his hand still on the dog, Screed looked nervously 
around. While carouches were technically vampires, his kind was still not 
treated well among some of the Raven's "finer" clientele. The tingling was 
faint, so either the vampire was not real close, or was trying to mask itself 
for some reason. He started to stand, preparing to fly. He'd come back for 
the bike later.......But the tingling stopped. 

Screed puzzled over this new mystery, sniffing the air again and again. 
Nothing in the air but the smell of dog-blood and the underlying scent of cat. 
He looked back down at the dog momentarily, realizing what had happened to it.
Those huge vicious cats that hunted in packs. They'd done this. He shrugged.
Ah, well. No concern of his. So some poor mortal had lost a pet. They should 
have kept better watch of it. He nudged one severed paw with his foot, 
unconsciously pushing it back to where it should have been attached, and the 
recognizable buzzing in his head startled him again. A carouche? Was it 
possible? He stared at the grisly body at his feet. When he touched it, he 
sensed a vampire faintly. No touch.....no tingle. There could be no other 
explanation.

"'Ow, Mate?"he asked it aloud."Wot could 'ave 'appened?" He knelt again, and 
examined the poor dog more closely, noticing how the spinal column had been 
severed but most of the head was still there, still partially attached at 
the neck. The wreck of what was left of the skull didn't show much left in 
the way of brains, but then he knew a lot of vampires who didn't exhibit 
much in the way of brains. He chuckled to himself over his own joke, and 
straightened the body out a little, placing it back into a more normal 
position. He sniffed again. Plenty of blood scent, but not the expected 
smell of death. Could it be? He scratched his bald head thoughtfully, 
wondering what to do. If he left it here, the rising morning sun would put a 
smoldering end to the remains and any chance of its recovery. If there *was* 
any chance. It was pretty badly eaten. He didn't know why he cared, he still 
had no desire for a pet of his own. Maybe because it was a carouche like 
himself.

Screed looked around. There. In the wall was a large grate, like a ventilation 
duct of some sort. He studied the outside of the dilapidated building and 
decided it was as abandoned as it looked. It took very little effort to pry 
the grate out of the wall and explore the pitch-black recesses inside. With 
proper precaution, no light would reach the interior. With a pleased nod, he 
made his decision, hesitating only momentarily over actually moving the gory 
mass. He smirked only slightly as he noticed the severed paw was no longer 
severed. By the time he was done picking up as many scraps of the furry 
carouche as he could find and placing them all together in the ventilation 
shaft, Screed was well covered with blood and gore himself. No matter. It's 
not like he was the squeamish sort o' bloke.

He stood back and viewed his handywork. He'd always enjoyed the challenge of 
jigsaw puzzles, so he thought he'd put the dog back together as well as could 
be expected, considering how many pieces were actually missing. Nothing more 
he could do, really. Now the pathetic thing would either die or regenerate. 
Of course that would probably take a very long time, seeing how much blood 
it had lost. He started to replace the grate, which he'd carefully lined 
with a black plastic garbage bag he'd dug out of a nearby dumpster. Once 
again, something inexplicable made him stop. He crawled back into the cramped 
space and without further hesitation, bit into his own wrist, tearing open 
the artery there and allowing his vampire blood to flow liberally over the 
dog's gaping wounds and what was left of its mouth. That done, he wriggled 
back out into the alley and closed up the vent tightly before turning and 
making his way through the debris toward his bicycle.

Turning for home, he sighed with satisfaction over what he'd done. Good 
Citizen Screed. He may have saved a life tonight. He wondered briefly if 
he'd ever know for sure, then picked up the bawdy sailor's song where he'd 
left off and be-bopped his way toward the end of the alley and the 
streetlights beyond. His thoughts already turned to other things, he jumped 
up on the bike and pedaled for home, sending his happy little tune echoing 
off the surrounding walls.

In the darkness behind him, a single beat of a vampire's heart went 
completely unnoticed by the world around it.

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The End...............or is it?