This Is What Knowing Feels Like

The next day I was up early.

For me.

I was up early for me. Something like… I dunno, 8:05?

Either way, I had time to get a quick shower in.

I’m one of those weirdos who brushes his teeth in the shower.

Don’t judge me, man.

But right about now, I was hungry. Like really hungry.

I was cool the last few days. I was still digesting what I ate before this whole thing went down.

Moms was always taking care of me. Right down to being my last meal.

That’s poetic somewhere.

It’s more fucked up than poetic, though, but I think we can acknowledge both realities and not make it weird, right?

I put on black jeans and Chucks. It was kinda cold this time of year, so a shirt, a hoodie, and a dope boy vest over it.

I didn’t feel like getting shit on today, so with the last few hours of my night, I paid Julissa to braid my hair.

She gave me a neat set of cornrows and another one of her stupid ass conversations.

Not with me.

I had to listen to her phone on speaker while I waited for her to finish my hair. She was on the phone with some other dude.

What was crazy is he knew she was at my house, and they just kept on talking.

Ladies, lemme tell you something.

If he’s cool with you being at some dude house doing hair late at night… he don’t like you that much.

Bro, I wanted to jump out a third-floor window headfirst listening to these niggas.

Straight up dumb nigga flirtin’ about dumb nigga shit.

You ever just be tired of something? Like, I grew up around this shit. These niggas don’t ever be talkin’ about nothing.

Nothing.

Then she kept snatching my head too hard and shit. Tugging on my damn hair like she don’t care. Telling me what I should do with my white folk hair.

Whatever the fuck white folk hair was.

See, for some reason, it’s not racist when we do it. I don’t know why either, man.

Shit crazy.

She triflin’ anyway.

I figured it was better than walking around looking like the alternate character option in a video game, so I dealt with her until she finished and basically paid her to leave.

This morning though, I figured I should dress with intention. Considering the shit that happened the last time I was in the vampire world?

I wanted to be ready to run.

I pulled on my cheap plastic sports watch and grabbed my phone.

Already there was a message waiting on me.

[CUTTER] Downstairs.

I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, stopping to pop into the bathroom to look at my face again.

It was so weird to see my lip healed and no trace of a black eye.

Also… the fuck?

Nigga you gettin’ kinda cute, my dude.

Am I finally starting to look older?

Oh wait.

Yesterday I got my face beat in.

Today it healed back.

Same face. Just slightly better every time.

Wait, is that why Julissa was willing to do my hair?

I squinted at my face then, noticing the subtle shift.

Not drastic. Not even noticeable. I was just more…

Me. Symmetrical.

I was noticeably better looking, like one of those weird ass make up transformations.

Even my complexion was smoother.

“What… the…”

Aw, god damn. I look like somebody’s cute blasian cousin.

“I’ll never get a girlfriend in my life. FUCK!”

That’s how this thing worked, huh?

Then I felt the immediate effects of it. The cost to heal.

The hunger aching at my ribs. Like I’d never be full again.

Just like when I ate my mom.

The thing I started to feel last night but didn’t want to acknowledge. While a perfectly good dinner was sitting behind me yapping on the phone to some stupid nigga literally down the street.

Doing my hair for eighty-five bucks. A sum that she would have asked for double two months ago.

Cus she liked me, I now realized.

I curled my lip and tongued at my capped canine, staring at it in the mirror.

Realizing even if I wanted to dead that stupid bitch I’d work my ass off just to gnaw at her.

Maybe get a little blood out of the deal. End up in more trouble than before.

My only option would be to eat her.

“I see you… Bastard,” I said, realizing part of Raymond’s plan.

Force me to be a better monster.

He knew I’d get hungry eventually, and when I did… I’d only have one choice.

Not drink.

Eat.

“What a trip, man. ' I blew a sigh and left the bathroom, headed out of my door.

I locked it, skipped the broken elevator again… but stopped.

I looked up and down the hall. Then to the elevator.

I walked up and pried the doors open, grunting as I shoved them apart. Looking down into the dark shaft.

I bit my lip… feeling the tingle of excitement.

Marcus should have put my ass in the hospital.

“I should be in the hospital, man…”

My fingers tingled… but I did it anyway.

I stepped right down into the darkness.

And fell.

One… two…

The red emergency light tipped me off to brace for the impact.

I thumped down hard on the top of the elevator, growling out the pain.

The shock. It rocketed up the heels of my feet, spiraling through my bones, rattling into my knees, right up my thighs and stabbed into my back.

I choked out a cough from the feeling of all of my bones compressing.

Then they all exhaled.

My stomach gave a lurch of hunger as all of my bones realigned and I rolled my shoulders.

“Holy shit… I guess if I could only get one power,” I said, reaching down to pry the elevator’s emergency latch open, sliding down into it.

I pried those doors open, the inside and the outside, stepping out into the lobby.

“Ey, shit, the elevator workin’?” Ed the Crackhead asked, standing up from the wall he was leaning on.

I don’t know that nigga name. I’m just makin’ some shit up right now.

“Nigga, why yo ass even outta bed this early?”

“We all got somethin’ to do everyday, young man.”

“Nigga, smokin’ crack ain’t a job,” I said, curling my lip at him

Heading for the steps leading down to the doors, I found myself starting to hate where I was at in life.

You see a bunch of ages-old vampires tear simple motherfuckers like us apart, and it makes you realign your perceptions about life.

Feel me?

I was thinking about that shit pretty hard, actually.

Right up until I got to the bottom landing and saw him.

He saw me.

Marcus.

“Wassup bitch boy? I saw Adonis this morning,” He said as I passed.

“I ain’t know niggas with no job got up this earl-NNG!”

Shut… UP nigga. Damn!

Why do I always have to do it?

Marcus had my short ass against the wall faster than I could finish my fuckin’ sentence.

He put my ass into the wall hard, too, shit.

Hood Hulk Hogan ass nigga.

“Say something else,” He said, staring at me.

I could tell he was a little surprised to see my face wasn’t still opened the fuck up.

But not like he was concerned for my sudden mutant healing factor.

Hell naw.

He looked more like he was wondering if he hadn’t fucked me up enough.

That shit worried me, not gonna lie.

“I’m good, man,” I said finally, staring him in the eyes, my hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, that’s right. Keep your mouth shut if you ain’t got squabbles, lil ass nigga.”

Let me translate for the white people in the back. Just imagine this in an Oxford-Cambridge voice. You’ll be spot on:

“If you’re incapable of standing up against any other person, great or small, with fisticuffs, my unfortunately fun-sized negro, then please only communicate with your peers in the form of hello and goodbye. Signed, violent, angry homeboy.”

And I did.

I kept my mouth shut.

I just nodded, and he let me go.

I did that nervous side-ways kinda walk, right?

Like you wanna leave, but you also don’t wanna turn your back on a nigga so you end up waling backwards?

“Fuck are you lookin’ at, nigga?” He said, squaring up to me.

That was my sign. That meant I was good to turn around and hurry my ass up.

So I did.

I took my brown eyes off of him, turning around to hurry out the door. I headed out into the parking lot, following the line of cars to the only sedan in it that made sense.

The nice black one waiting on me.

I walked around to the back seat and opened the door.

“Front seat, kid,” Cutter said.

I nodded, closed the back, and moved up to the passenger, popping it open and hopping inside.

He started the car almost immediately, but turned to look at me and said.

“What was that about?”

“Just some hood shit, man. I’m good.”

“You sure? Looks like he’s got beef with you.”

“Nothing he didn’t take care of last night."

“Rough. Sorry to hear it, kid. You didn’t fight him back, did you?” he asked, concerned.

“What? Hell yeah, I did. It just didn’t work.” I said, shaking my head.

I got the worry. Especially since I just survived a two-story drop that should have destroyed my body.

I got it. What if I had freakish strength or… laser eyes or whatever the fuck vampire got?

taking us out of the parking lot and back out into the streets of Detroit, Cutter finally responded.

“Rough. He mess you up?”

“I looked a lot worse last night.”

“Ouch. Yeah. Been there. What pisses you off is knowing you could rip their fucking arms off but having to show restraint. That’s the one that… But listen. Never let anybody manhandle you. We show restraint. We don’t let somebody beat on us,” he grit his jaw.

He’d definitely been there. I watched him grip the steering wheel like he was strangling the fuck out of somebody as we headed up Jefferson.

“It happens, man… If it makes you feel any better, no. I just got beat up. Like I said, it happens. So where are we headed? Omertà HQ or something?”

“Black Ministry HQ, and no. Local PD in the Outback. We just gotta get you deputized so you can start Raymond’s assignment.”

“What, I get Black Ministry patrol hours? The fuck are you talkin’ about man?”

“Blossom says you gotta be Omertà. Quickest way to Omertà is devotion to a service for the Black Ministry, and it’s not the worst idea…”

“Whoa, whoa… we didn’t say shit about me becoming a cop. I ain’t a narc.”

“Can you knock off that fuckin’ homeboy shit?”

“Hey, fuck you, man. Why you always think I’m makin’ it racial? I just don’t like cops, aight?”

“Yeah? Why’s that? One of your homies catch one in the ass bein’ a fuckin’ unruly jackass in public? Well-deserved bang-bang in his fried rice, Blackie Chan?”

“… You done pressin’ all my buttons?” I asked, staring at him. “What, I’m supposed to be the angry nigga you expect me to be? Come on, man… That shit’s played out.”

“Good. Figured I’d get that shit outta the way.”

“What? The racial slur moment or the seeing if I gave a shit moment?”

“Either one.”

“I respect that. Nah, I don’t do that race card shit, bro. What’s the point? Honestly, I’d rather a motherfucker go ahead and call me a nigga to my face. Least then I know where we stand. I’ll keep me and my family away from him. He keeps him and his family away from me. Now we know.”

“No. I don’t feel you. Sorry man, I don’t feel you. Isn’t that like segregation by popular vote?”

“People aren’t allowed to do what they want?”

“So you’re saying we’re all just tribal animals?”

“I’m not saying it. We’re acting like it, dude,” I said, shrugging. “I call trees trees.”

He chuckled as he turned us into the East Market, slowing down by Shed 2.

“Okay,” Cutter said throwing a doubtful glance my way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you don’t ever get mad? Some guy gets wise, throws some crazy shit at you, you just let it slide?”

“Yeah, why not? I don’t walk around trying to be other people’s entertainment. My life is full of choices. I wanna be the one who makes them,” I said, shrugging. “That’s not how you feel?”

“No… it is. I’m just…”

“Surprised.”

“Yeah. Cus you’re black.”

We both laughed hard at that.

“I knew you were gonna say that shit. So where’s Bud go then?” I asked.

“Bud? Oh, he was an investigator. He helped me track you down after that blood bath you left back there. Raymond hired him to track you, then he brought me in to start working on cleaning up your past. That’s why we had you sit still for a while.”

“Oh…” I nodded. “Cool, so… what now?”

“You have to understand the weight of what’s about to happen,” Cutter said. “You’re being given a license to kill. With jurisdictional rules and… some limitations, but… largely autonomously. I’m a handler, not a field agent.”

“What…?” I asked, my eyebrow lifting slowly.

“Think like Bud, only more privatized. Black Ministry can’t have its hands in what’s about to happen. Do you understand what it would look like if the Black Ministry were investigating what should be random, run-of-the-mill acts by young vampires?”

“No. I don’t. Sorry, man,” I shook my head like the dumb kid in class.

“Think about it this way. Let’s say a rash of car thefts happen in Chicago. Your take?”

“Thursday.”

“Thursday. Right. Okay. Same rash of car thefts happen in Chicago. Only this time, Homeland Security, the FBI and Interpol come and investigate.”

“Okay, that’s fucked up.”

“Exactly. Alright, now, you’re the car thefts. You get me now?”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah,” Cutter said, his eyebrows tipping up. “Shit. We’re headed into the Outback. Remember, after you get your feet, you’re just like Bud, a P.I. for the Black Ministry. You do the legwork, the groundwork, and find something worth our attention. You call me. We close the deal.”

“So what are you, like a scout?”

“FBI to police,” he said, “You’re the police.”

“Oh… no training?”

“Same training we all got."

“Nice,” I nodded, knowing where that was going already.

“Right. Get your ass kicked enough, you figure it out. Just don’t die.” he said.

We pulled into a parking space, and I nodded, looking over at Rocky’s.

“Why are we goin’ back to the Blossom place?”

“We’re not. That’s just a gate,” Cutter said.

“Right,” I nodded, “Of course. That’s just a gate,” I rolled my eyes.

Cutter laughed and got out of the car. I followed, and we headed back towards Rocky’s.

This time, as we approached and he reached for the door, his hand found a wooden, round-topped door like an old archway door from the Renaissance.

When he opened it, what was on the other side was a large station with doors like the one he had just opened across from it.

Many people were walking out of them, going one direction or another.

I glanced at him.

“Hurry up, man,” Cutter said.

I nodded and stepped up into the door, at this point ready to expect anything.

As the place grew in my vision, I noticed the ceiling more. Tall, almost like a museum.

This place was old. Old enough to qualify as hella.

There were doors everywhere, up and down, both sides of the ballroom-sized hall. A two-storied room of doors with elegant staircases all around it.

Several. No one seemed too pressed on them. Most people were just swiping on their device of choice. Some people were reading.

A fair number of people were sitting at the tables about having conversations or scribbling.

Everybody seemed so into the hobby of scribbling.

For what reason? No fuckin’ idea, honestly.

Everything about this experience had a nigga questioning everything I knew about life.

For real.

There was a kiosk in the middle that people could stop and, I’d guess, get information.

Nobody seemed to though.

The woman sitting at the kiosk looked bored as shit.

Like hella bored.

Kinda bored you get when you have a job you hate, but it’s too easy to quit and too boring to love.

I knew those blues, so I didn’t comment.

“What the hell is this?”

“Junction. One of many. We own five personally. This one’s just for Black Ministry agents and our guests. Every door here connects to hubs. Different gates between the Outback and Earth.

“What’s the Outback?”

“Think of it as… like an egg carton. Every little cup is an echo. They’re connected by a series of hub spaces. Like this one… that we call the Outback.”

“Why the Outback? Shit looks like a room full of doors.”

“Oh, this one’s small. Really small. C’mon,” Cutter said, gesturing at another door.

I followed him across the room and the next one he opened…

“Okay, nigga what the fuck…”

We were looking at a small city inside a gray haze sky dome.

An ever-present late evening gloom. Streets…

Cars…

It must have gone on for miles.

How far? I couldn’t tell. But I knew it had an end.

“Like I said, this one’s small,” Cutter said, stepping through the doorway onto a paved street, a parking lot.

Just like the one at Shed 2, really. Only more remote. Up in the hills.

Stepping further out into it, I looked around and noticed not a single car in it but one.

An all black muscle car I couldn’t readily identify.

As he walked towards it, I noticed something else about him was different.

His buttoned-down suit and tie were now a long coat and armored shoulders. A mantle.

“Okay, that’s the second time I saw somebody change clothes in front of me.”

I glanced up and saw the ears sticking out of his head.

Wolf ears.

“Nigga you got ears… I’mma assume you’re aware that you got ears.”

“… Yeah.”

Then he did that fuck nigga shit where he chirped his alarm.

“… Alright, cool guy,” I said, twisting my lips to the side.

He marched towards the car, and I followed, feeling my stomach ache at me again.

Worse this time.

“There something to eat on this tour?”

“Yeah. Madame said she wants you for breakfast.”

“Aw, come on, man…”

“No. She doesn’t mean you. We gotta get you sworn in, then we have a brunch meeting with the sitting madame.”

“The sitting madame?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling open his car door with a thunk.

I did the same on the passenger side, and we both got in. His engine growled to a start.

I couldn’t help but look around one last time as I looked at that gloomy city.

It seemed to go on for so long. Dark, gothic, old with a modern twist.

Kind of place some goth kid or Halloween nut would love to live on the weekends.

The shit I thought I knew two months ago…

“Surreal, man… Werewolves are real. Zombies are real. Vampires are real. Man, my mom would never believe this shit.”

“She might if she reads sleazy sex novels,” Cutter said, pulling us out of the parking lot aggressively and stepping on the gas as we peeled onto the paved road.

This is what knowing feels like…