Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 170

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: Talk about drug addiction. Skip this chapter if you’d rather not read about that.

**JERRY**

Being a vampire sucks. Although apparently, I’m not TECHNICALLY a vampire. I’m something called a dhampire. Which, according to Tracey, basically means I’m half-vampire, the result of one of my parents, grandparents, or someone up the family tree either getting bitten by a vampire while pregnant or… Getting it on with one. Classy, right? Then again, who am I to judge? Anyway, apparently, all that would’ve meant exactly zero for my life, except maybe burning a little easier in the sun, if I’d just never tasted human blood. Which feels completely unfair, because I didn’t even mean to! It was an accident. Now I’m basically a blood junkie. Tracey says once I ‘detox,’ it won’t be so bad. But he also says that now that I’ve had it, I’ll always want it. And for bonus fun, whenever I actually die, I’ll probably wake up as a full-blown vampire. Yippee. All I wanted to do was make out with the pretty barista girl, and now I’m locked in the basement of an old, technophobic vampire. Admittedly, it’s a really nice basement. I guess if you’re allergic to sunlight and are centuries old, you learn to decorate. But living with Tracey? That’s the real nightmare. He’s ridiculously flamboyant, weirdly sensitive about random things (who even cares if his name is a little bit feminine?), and he has So. Many. Rules. Worse, I can’t tell which ones actually MATTER for my survival and which ones he made up just to mess with me. And because he’s sadistic, or maybe just insane, he’s making me write them all down ‘so I don’t forget.’ On paper. Like, actual pen and paper. Has he not heard of the Notes app? Still, now I’ve got this several-page-long document titled ‘Tracey’s Rules for Being a Decent Vampire (or Dhampire) So You Don’t Get Staked.’ It’s a bit wordy, but he’s a wordy kind of guy. I swear he doesn’t take anything seriously. Especially not me. When we met, the first thing he said was, ‘Welcome to vampire rehab. Don’t worry, I want you here even less than you want to be here. Behave yourself and pay attention, and we might both make it out of this mess before you hit your first century.’ I’m really hoping that part was a joke.

It’s been a few weeks, and I’m already over it. I’m sick of the basement. Sick of Tracey. I haven’t seen another person since he dragged me down here. At first, I didn’t care. I spent the first week trying to escape, breaking locks, testing the windows upstairs, plotting ways to find Amy again. I told myself it was because I missed her. Because I cared. But now that my head’s clearer, I know better. It wasn’t love. It was the blood. Tracey calls it ‘bloodlust.’ I call it withdrawal. I don’t need blood to live, so it’s basically like a drug. One I never asked for and can never completely shake. He says it’ll always be there, a whisper at the back of my mind, sometimes louder, sometimes quiet. Right now, it’s loud. I get restless when I’m alone too long. I’ve tried sleeping, but it’s useless. My thoughts just spin. This totally sucks. The basement might be fancy, antique furniture, thick rugs, mood lighting, the works, but he doesn’t even have a PlayStation. He insists that ‘modern technology won’t cooperate with vampire blood,’ that my magic will ‘short-circuit the devices.’ Sure. I’ll believe that when I see it. As soon as he lets me out of here, I’m finding my console and testing it myself. I need something to take my mind off this mess. I flip back through Tracey’s Rules for Being a Decent Vampire (or Dhampire) So You Don’t Get Staked, trying to figure out which parts are legit and which are just… Tracey being Tracey. There’s a lot of handwriting. And glitter pen. Because of COURSE he has glitter pens. The list goes something like this:

*1\. NO DRINKING BLOOD- Yeah. Probably fair. Even I can admit that one’s necessary.* 

*2\. Always dress to impress- Crap. Absolute crap. I don’t care how dramatic vampires are, if I want to wear sweatpants, I will damnit!*

*3\. Avoid rare meat- Maybe? Not sure. He says it ‘encourages the craving,’ but I think he just wants all the steak to himself. Apparently the same rules don’t apply to FULL vampires.* 

*4\. Do not, under any circumstances, sparkle- Apparently this was ‘a personal low point for the species.’ I asked if he was speaking from experience. He didn’t answer.*

*5\. No mirrors in the bedroom- Supposedly something about ‘temptation and ego.’ Personally, I think that he was mocking me.*

*6\. Always announce yourself before entering another vampire’s territory- Sounds important, but he refuses to define what counts as ‘territory.’ A house? A city block? Someone’s DMs? No one knows. Also how am I supposed to KNOW what another vampire’s territory is? Is there a list? A guidebook?* 

*7\. Sunscreen doesn’t help. Don’t try it- This was in response to my suggestion that some SPF50 might be of use to him. He shuddered and looked vaguely ill. I’m not actually allergic to the sun right now. I think this is more of a ‘full vampire’ issue.* 

*8\. Never trust a witch who offers you a ‘harmless charm.’- Okay, that one sounds suspiciously personal. He got really defensive when I asked follow-up questions. Might be legit.* 

*9\. Don’t feed from drunks, drug users, or vegans- The reasoning changes every time he explains it. Something about ‘impurities in the blood’ one day and ‘bad flavour profile’ the next. Again, this kind of conflicts with rule number one of ‘no blood’...*

*10\. Do not turn into a bat. You can’t. Stop trying- …No comment.*

And that’s just the first few pages. There are DOZENS more, each more ridiculous than the last. One of them literally says, ‘Always carry a silk handkerchief, you never know when you’ll need to faint elegantly.’ I think that one’s just for him. By the time I reach the end of the section titled ‘Public Decency and Bite Etiquette,’ I’m ready to drive a stake through my OWN heart. It’s hard to tell which part is worse, that I’m trapped here reading this nonsense… Or that deep down, I’m starting to think some of it might actually be useful! I’m contemplating making paper airplanes out of the damn list, maybe see how many rules I can send airborne before Tracey notices, when I hear the door upstairs open. That immediately gets my attention. The upper part of the house technically works, but Tracey doesn’t go up there much. He says he prefers the ambience down here, I think he just doesn’t like windows. He also doesn’t let me upstairs unsupervised anymore. Claims it’s about safety, but we both know it’s about trust. And yeah, fair. I’d totally sneak out the first chance I got. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs now, light, deliberate, faster than human but still graceful. The sound’s familiar by now, comforting in a weird, begrudging way. But when he appears at the bottom of the staircase, I nearly drop the papers in my hands. Tracey, who usually looks like he stepped out of a gothic fashion magazine, is… A wreck. His hair is tangled, his shirt’s half untucked, and he is covered in… Flour? His usual smug composure is gone, replaced with an expression that’s… Off. Exhausted. Pale, even by his standards. It’s not just that he looks messy. It’s that he looks wrong. 

“Uh… Hey?” I say carefully, setting the papers down. He gives me a tired wave, trying for his usual dramatic flair and failing miserably.

“Hey, Jerry. Did you behave while I was gone? I just-” He stops mid-sentence. His head jerks, his whole body going rigid for half a second, then he bolts. One second he’s in the doorway, the next he’s gone, a blur of movement faster than my eyes can follow. The sound of a door slamming and something crashing comes from down the hall. Straight to the bathroom. I stand frozen for a second, staring after him. My brain catches up a beat too late. 

“…That’s not good.” I mutter. I hesitate, every part of me says don’t get involved, but curiosity wins. I drop the papers and head for the bathroom. Whatever’s going on, I’m pretty sure it’s not just bad hair day number two.