Chapter 7: Low Profile, Part 2

Suddenly, a nervous looking brunette man with wild eyes in his late teens opened the door. The pheromone level this guy excreted was maddening! See, when humans are nervous or scared, their body emits pheromones that vampires can detect. It helps us track our prey. For his sake, it's good that I wasn't dying of thirst, because his crimson blood was pulsing deep within his veins under the thin skin of his throat, calling to me ...

"Jeez," I said, throwing back my head, closing my eyes. "Not now."

And I was supposed to keep a low profile.

Immediately, the guy threw open his overcoat, revealing a sawed-off shotgun. Probably sawed it off himself. His hands shook as he pointed it at the frail cashier behind the counter, who held up his hands and looked at me apologetically.

"How much?" I asked the cashier casually, indicating the items on the counter as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Didn't you hear me, bitch?!" the young man yelled into my ear. The shotgun in his hand visibly shook.

I looked outside at Rick, who was watching the exchange and held up my hands as if to say, "What the hell?" Rick was laughing hysterically.

In one fluid motion, I took the weapon from his still shaking hands and pointed it at his gut. "Now who's the bitch, bitch?"

"Hey ..." the guy stammered. The frail man behind the counter watched the exchange with his hands up, taking a step back. "I don't want any trouble ..." Pheromone guy was suddenly changing his tune.

"Oh, I think that's exactly what you want," I corrected, expertly cocking the shotgun and pointing it right between his eyes before he could bat an eye. "Now," I began again calmly, "why don't you hurry home like a good little boy and leave this poor man alone."

I smiled sweetly.

"What the hell?" Suddenly, the guy grew some balls. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He lowered his hands, and then made a move for the shotgun.

Within the flutter of an eyelash, I grabbed his arm and threw him against the counter. And in the same fluid motion, I was behind him with the shotgun pointed at the back of his head. I had his body print.

"I'm the bitch with your shotgun," I answered menacingly as the sides of my lip curled upward. My green eyes flared. "Who do you think you are?" I asked, then my body quivered and morphed, changing into him. Within a second, he was looking at an exact carbon copy of himself. "A punk?"

"Whoa," the punk staggered back a bit, his eyes wide.

"Or a guy who picks on little old men?" I continued. Again, my body quivered, changing until I morphed into an exact replica of the old man behind the counter.

Both men were speechless.

"Or are you a guy that likes to harass women?" Once again, my body shimmered, then within a second I changed back into myself. I had hundreds of body prints and I knew how to use them all.

Liquid seeped through the guy's jeans, creating a river that spilled onto the floor. Suddenly, he was standing in a puddle of his own piss, shaking violently.

"Ah ..." I said, exasperated. "Now look what you've done!" I stepped back a bit, looking at the mess. "You've messed up this nice man's floor!"

"I'm out 'a here!" pheromone guy yelled, backing out the door, then ran for it as fast as he could. Smiling, Rick tripped him as he ran past. The guy was so spooked that he jumped up with horror in his eyes, looked at Rick, and ran down the street yelling the whole way. So much for keeping a low profile.

I expertly unloaded the shotgun, sending the shells flying. Each pinged as they hit the floor one by one.

Lowering the weapon, I asked the old man, who watched the whole incident with wide eyes from behind the counter, "Are you okay?"

"Sure!" he said, grinning, lowering his hands. "That's the most fun I've had in years! Hey, you want a job?"

I laughed, enjoying this old man. He had balls. Big ones, despite his frail appearance. I guess you need them working at a Stop and Rob. "No, I'll pass. I already have a job."

"Doing what? I know you don't sell Avon!"

I laughed again, ignoring the question. "How much do I owe you? We pumped gas, too," I asked, pointing to the items on the counter.

"Not a dime! Hey, you did me a favor tonight!" he said as he excitedly placed the Mountain Dew and Juicy Fruit into a bag.

Gingerly taking the bag from him, I looked into his eyes. "Hey," I quietly asked, leaning slightly toward him. "You aren't going to tell anybody about this, are you?" I really didn't want to erase his memory of the incident. Messing with the minds of the elderly is dangerous. I didn't want this nice old man to have to spend the rest of his life in a home with no memories.

"Who would believe me?" he answered, solving my dilemma.

"Thanks," I said, nodding as I walked quickly out the door before any cops showed. The whole incident lasted only a few minutes, but you never knew who was watching.

"Have a nice day!" I heard the old man yell behind me.

Still carrying the shotgun, I moved as quickly as possible without attracting attention to the Mercedes where Rick was suppressing a smile.

"Not a word," I said to Rick before he could open his mouth. "Do not say a word."

Rick feigned innocence, then silently locked his lips and threw away the key. Inside the SUV and safely back on I-95, Rick guffawed. "You find trouble everywhere you go, don't you?"

"I said not to say it and you promised," I said, smiling.

"Hey, I promised nothing!" Rick corrected, enjoying himself.

I looked at the weapon still in my hand. "I've been wanting a shotgun! Haven't had one for a while," I said, throwing it into the floorboard behind the seat.

"Hey, watch it! This car's new!" Rick feigned innocence. "Well, Abby, one thing's for sure. I haven't had this much fun in years!"

"Yeah, that's what the old man said."

"I know," Rick teased. "You forget, I can hear well, too."

"Among other things," I said, remembering his gifts. All vamps had gifts, and his was mind reading and reading people. Oh, and mind control, but all vamps could do that. He could meet someone and immediately tell where they were from, what they were thinking, and what their intentions were. His skills came in quite handy upon more than one occasion. "Hey, you want me to drive?"

"My baby?" He laughed. "Not a chance!"

"Another baby?" I laughed, and the bantering continued until we saw the quaint Victorian homes that were the trademark of Cooperstown. I had been here before and they didn't allow any form of progress within the town. That meant no McDonalds, Wendy's, or modern pizza places. Main Street was lined with quaint, old fashioned shops, and the locals wanted to keep it that way. In fact, everything in the town closed up tighter than a drum by 6 p.m. You were out of luck if you wanted anything to eat after 9 p.m., but if you sweet talked them, they would probably rustle you up something to eat in the local bar. They were open until 11p.m.

"We're home," Rick sang, as we passed through Main Street, following the road to the other side of town.

"Don't remind me," I said under my breath.

Rick smiled, but didn't say anything. Good. I didn't want to get that started again.

We followed the road as it curved gracefully around Otsego Lake. It really was a beautiful town. Cooperstown was a resort community, home of the Baseball Hall of Fame, Doubleday Field, and Cooperstown Village, a village with people reenacting the pioneer days. Although it was cute, they seldom got it right. It wasn't as glamorous as they made it out to be. I guess if I had to be anywhere, this wasn't such a bad place to be after all.