Chapter One
When the deer started showing up in the wooded area behind the pool, Anton Pagano would glance out of the second story window of his bedroom and watch the way his dad, Angelo, tried to coax them toward the house so he could feed them pieces of stale bread and bits of sfogliatelle that had been sitting in the refrigerator for too long. It would be dark by then and Anton’s mom would be in the kitchen making cocktails of fresh human blood that had been left in a small insulated container next to the back door earlier that day by their neighbor Dr. Morris.
When they’d first moved into the expensive northern New Jersey neighborhood of Short Hills five years earlier, they’d made Dr. Morris aware of their needs and he’d always been willing to accommodate them. Anton’s dad had made it clear that if Dr. Morris didn’t they would make a cocktail out of him. Without any questions asked, the blood was at the back door every night and Dr. Morris was paid well for being so agreeable.
On a dark, cloudy night in July, a night when the deer would be out in full force, Anton opened the lid of his sleeping chamber and climbed out to stretch. He jogged in place a few times, and then glanced down at his naked body and smiled. He’d always considered it his good fortune to have been turned at the age of twenty-two. He would always be lean and muscular, his hair would remain thick and dark, and he would never have to work to attract much attention. He jiggled the muscles in his lean, defined chest and stroked his flat abdomen a few times. His only regret was he’d been turned before men had started shaving their body hair. Though he wasn’t considered hairy or offensive, he did have a touch of dark fuzz on his chest, his lower abdomen, and his legs. Trying to remove it now proved futile because it would only grow back seconds later.
He ran his fingers through his hair and crossed to the bedroom window in his bare feet. As he glanced down, he saw his dad standing at the far end of the swimming pool with both arms stretched forward and a piece of stale bread in each hand. He’d never understood this obsession his dad had with the deer. There were days when the deer were the only thing that made him smile. Anton considered them the dumbest creatures on earth, and if their blood hadn’t been so bitter he would have feasted on them daily just to keep the population down. They were nothing more than rats with hooves. It was getting so bad in that part of New Jersey they seemed to be everywhere, and he’d already ruined two Cadillac Escalades by slamming into them on Route 80.
He turned from the window and crossed to his closet, dismissing the deer and his dad. When he opened the wide double doors and stepped into the large open dressing area, he pulled a pair of black jeans from a shelf, a skimpy white mock turtleneck from another, and a new pair of Gucci socks he’d been dying to wear. He was starting a new job that night and he wanted to look better than the other guys. His dad owned a few nightclubs in New Jersey and New York and Angelo had been pressuring him to do something with his time. Even though he was over one hundred years old, like most people who looked as young as he was, he didn’t feel motivated or obliged to do anything. If his dad hadn’t owned the nightclubs he would have had the same excuse his human friends had: there were no jobs out there and there was nothing he could do.
But that was an excuse Anton couldn’t use. He’d never actually worked and didn’t see the point. Anton knew he could do what he wanted, get whatever he wanted, and live forever without having to work. But his dad had this obsession about fitting in with everyone else and being as normal as possible—as if that were possible— which was the main reason they lived in a Mc Mansion in the suburbs of Northern New Jersey instead of the south of France or the Italian Riviera. But more than that, Anton’s dad was his maker and he called the shots, and there was nothing Anton could do about it, because the bond between a vampire and his creator was as strong as the bond between parent and child.
After he put on his new Prada loafers, he glanced down at the bulge in his crotch and adjusted it. His wore his pants tight and sometimes he had issues with his penis. On the night he’d been turned he’d just finished masturbating and his penis had been semi-erect at the exact moment the transformation from human to vampire took place. Because of this, it meant his penis would always remain semi-erect and there was nothing he could do to make it go completely flaccid. It could grow fully erect; he’d never had a problem in that department. But going completely limp was impossible. And it often created problems with the clothes he wore. In the summertime he was forced to wear loose baggy swim trunks at night and let his penis fall into the legs of his trunks. Skimpy tight swim trunks were out of the question; they made him look obnoxious and vulgar. In this respect he was lucky he’d never have to deal with sunshine like his human friends.
He patted his crotch and put on his Rolex. He grabbed the keys to his new Escalade and headed downstairs to the kitchen. When he reached the family room off the kitchen, he saw his mom standing in front of the French doors that overlooked the pool, with a martini glass of fresh blood in each hand and a pitiful frown on her face.
“What’s he doing now?” Anton asked as he crossed to the center island and picked up a glass of blood that his mom had left for him on the black granite counter. “I saw him trying to feed them again from my bedroom window. I just don’t get what he sees in them.”
Anton’s mom, Marian Pagano, sighed and said, “He’s trying to get them to eat out of his hand now. He’s determined to make them pets or something. I just don’t get it either.” Her voice sounded sad and her sentences dropped at the end.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Anton said. His dad was one hundred years older than he was and should have known better than to even attempt something like this. Animals of all kinds, wild or domestic, could sense they were vampires and they never came too close. The most ferocious lion in the jungle would take one look at a vampire and run the other way with its tail between its legs.
“I’m afraid not,” Marian said. “It’s like he’s obsessed with them. And I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been thinking therapy might help.”
Before Anton could reply, his younger brother, Dino, walked into the kitchen and sent Anton a nasty look. “I hope you didn’t drink all the blood, you big gay gavone.”
“Fuck you, ass-wipe breeder-feeder,” Anton said. Dino had been turned fifty years after Anton had become a vampire and Dino had been eighteen at the time. They looked nothing alike. Dino was blond and had practically no body hair at all. He walked with a lighter step and had silver-blue eyes that seemed to give him a sense of superiority over everyone else in the house. He often referred to Anton as a gavone, which loosely meant impolite and crude in Italian.
“Fuck you, cocksucker,” Dino said. He was also straight and looked down on Anton because he was gay.
“Now, boys, don’t argue,” Marian said. “There’s plenty of blood for everyone. I even added a little kitten blood tonight to make it extra special for my baby.” When she said “her baby,” they all knew she was referring to Dino. The nasty little vampire fucker could do no wrong in her eyes. She didn’t dislike Anton, but she’d never treated him the same way she’d treated Dino. And Anton had a feeling it was because he was gay and Dino was straight. At the time Anton had been turned, they had no idea he was attracted to men. The first hundred years he didn’t even mention it to them. But when they caught him in the back seat of a Buick in the 1960s, with a Marine from Fort Dix on top of him, he told them the truth and nothing had been quite the same since.
Dino sent Anton a nasty smile, gloating at the way their mom favored him so openly.
Anton clenched his fists and bit his bottom lip. He knew it would do nothing to complain or mention this to his mom. She would deny treating Dino better than she treated Anton. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Dino finished his glass of blood and frowned at the bulge in Anton’s pants. He pointed and said, “I guess you’re going for the more dignified look on you first night at work.”
“At least I have dick,” Anton said. Then he glanced at Dino’s flat crotch and smiled.
“Boys, please stop it,” Marian said. She turned from the French doors and walked back to the center island. “Your father is coming back and I don’t want him getting upset. That’s the last thing I need.”
At least trying to feed the deer put their dad in a good mood. He tended to be high-strung and was prone to fits of rage for no apparent reason at all sometimes. But that night, as he padded through the French doors in his boxers and bathrobe, he smiled at everyone and said, “I almost had them tonight. The little fuckers almost came right up and ate out of my hand.”
Dino and Marian exchanged a quick glance, and Anton looked down at his shoes. This comment coming from a man who had done some of the worst things imaginable to human beings sounded almost ridiculous.
Angelo walked to the island and picked up the entire crystal pitcher and swallowed the rest of the fresh blood. After he wiped his lips and belched, he turned to Anton and said, “You’re picking Digger up tonight on your way to work. You’re going to run an errand for me on the way.” He spoke with a typical northern New Jersey accent, pronouncing th as d and dropping the letter g from all words ending in ing.
Anton finished his blood and set the martini glass on the black granite. “An errand? I thought I’d be working at the club in Livingston tonight.” He’d done errands for Angelo before and they’d always been events that left him less than thrilled. The last time he’d ruined his best Gucci loafers throwing some hoodlum’s body into the East River.
Angelo turned and sent Anton one of those looks where he squinted and smiled at the same time. He’d been turned in the eighteenth century, as a middle-aged man with a paunch and almost bald head. “Don’t fucking ask questions, you dumb shit. Just do what I say and always remember I’m the boss. I made you and I can break you whenever I want.”
Marian sighed. “Do you have to be so fucking nasty all the time, Angelo? Why don’t you pretend he’s one of your fucking precious deer instead of your son?” When she became angry her accent sounded more Brooklyn—fucking sounded more like “fockin.”
Angelo sent her a glare; his fangs popped out. “Don’t fuck with me.”
Anton felt a pull in his stomach. When his mom and dad argued it felt as if a tornado had slammed into the house.
Dino glanced between them and smiled as if he were enjoying the entertainment.
Marian slammed her glass on the table and said, “Don’t you fucking talk to me that way! I’m just as old as you are and you’re not my fucking boss.” For a small blond woman who’d worn a size four for hundreds of years, she wasn’t intimidated easily. Though they all knew Angelo was indeed the boss, they also knew he couldn’t live without Marian. She catered to him as if she were his mother, and he’d come to depend on that.
“It’s okay, mom,” Anton said. “I don’t mind.”
Angelo made a fist and pounded the granite, showing them he was still the boss. The crystal martini glasses jiggled and the entire room went silent. A moment later, he took a breath, hid his fangs, and sent Anton a smile. “Thank you for being so compliable, your highness.”
Dino rolled his eyes.
Anton knew his dad was being sarcastic, but he didn’t want to irritate him. So he shrugged and said, “I’d better go pick up Digger now. He probably won’t even be dressed by the time I get there.”
On the way out, he kissed Marian on both cheeks and Angelo patted him on the back. Dino turned toward the refrigerator and made no attempt to say anything. Being ignored that way didn’t bother Anton anymore. They both knew that even though Anton was gay, he was stronger, smarter, better looking, and knew how to take control the same way Angelo did. In many ways, Anton often felt a little sorry for his younger brother, and that was mainly because Dino’s strongest feature was that he’d always known his own weaknesses. The arrogance he directed toward Anton was merely his own way of compensating because he was such an inferior vampire.
***
Digger lived in the Vailsburg section of Newark, New Jersey, located in the West Ward next to the Garden State Parkway. It could be an interesting neighborhood for those unfamiliar with it. Some parts were as rough as any inner city in the country, and where it bordered South Orange things started to calm down the closer you came to Seton Hall University. The only reason Digger lived there was because he enjoyed being so close to the college. He was one of those vampires that didn’t distinguish between the sexes. Depending on his fickle moods, there was no telling whether or not he would go for men or women.
He lived in one of the Ivy Hill apartments on Manor Drive, a tall red brick complex with a cluster of buildings that had always reminded Anton of old TV shows from the 1960s, where bleach blond women lived with slick talking men who chain smoked and wore hats and suits all the time. And Digger rarely met him at the entrance outside. Anton had long forgotten to expect anything more from him. So he parked the Escalade, climbed out, and took the elevator to the fifth floor.
The halls smelled of onions and garlic and remnants of what people in other apartments had cooked for dinner. Because Anton’s sense of smell was so intense, he often forced himself to breathe through his mouth so he could take the foul smell of food. It had been so long since he’d actually eaten a meal he’d forgotten what food tasted like, but he’d never be able to forget the rank aroma of onions and garlic as long as he had to keep coming to Ivy Hill to pick up Digger.
He knocked on the door and Digger said, “C’mon in, dude.”
When he entered he found Digger walking around nude, with his penis flopping against his thighs. Although they called themselves cucini, cousins, in a figurative sense, they weren’t related by a genetic connection. Digger’s dad, Uncle Sonny, was Anton’s dad’s best friend. Uncle Sonny and Angelo had both been turned by the same vampire in Sicily hundreds of years earlier and they considered themselves fratelli, brothers. They’d migrated to the US together in the late 1800s and gone into business. Although Angelo had always been the boss, Uncle Sonny was second in command in their clan. The businesses they’d owned had varied through the years, from bootlegging during prohibition, to drugs—or anything that was considered illegal. Their latest venture with nightclubs was the first time they’d done something legitimate, and the nightclubs were basically just fronts where they could launder money, deal in prostitution, and look respectable.
Digger’s real name was Michael Armentelli. They called him Digger because he’d once had to dig his way into the earth to avoid being killed by the sun. It happened in 1932, back when he was still considered a baby vampire. He’d been out screwing around and had forgotten about the time. When he realized it was almost dawn and there wasn’t a coffin anywhere to be found, he started digging until he reached a safe place to sleep. After that, Uncle Sonny was so proud his son had been so resourceful he started calling him Digger and it caught on so well no one ever called him Michael anymore.
“You’re not even dressed,” said Anton. He smiled at the way Digger’s dick bounced against his thigh. It was thick at the base and tapered a little at the head.
Digger must have seen Anton staring, because he loped over in his bare feet and put his arms around him. He kissed Anton on the mouth and moved closer, pressing his groin into Anton’s and rubbing it up and down. When he removed his tongue from Anton’s mouth, he squeezed his biceps and said, “You look hot tonight.”
Anton smiled. He reached down and found Digger’s cock fully erect. “We don’t have time for this. My dad said we have to run an errand for him. He said you know all about it.”
Digger didn’t seem to be in a rush. He held Anton tighter and started rubbing his entire body up and down against Anton’s torso in a sleazy way. “We always have time to be nice to each other.”
One of the things that Anton had always loved most about Digger was his ability to be slightly sleazier than other vampires. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, and he’d proven that more than once to Anton. “Put on your pants and get ready. We can be nice to each other later, you little slut fang fucker.”
They joked around like this all the time. Digger didn’t take offense; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. “You’re no fun anymore. There was a time when your pants would be down and your legs would be up if you saw me naked. I think you’re getting old.”
“We’re both getting too old for that,” Anton said. “They expect things from us now, and we have to show them we can do what they want.” He slapped Digger on the ass and pushed him away. “Go get dressed. And put that ugly dick away.”
Although Digger had a reputation for being obstinate with most people, he rarely ever questioned Anton’s authority. So he turned slowly and walked back to his closet. Anton watched every move Digger made, with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes wide open. Digger had a lean, lanky frame, dark long hair that stopped at his neck, and a tiny backside that rounded out more than most men. When he walked, he seemed to glide and the two indentations at the small of his back moved with each step in a way that made Anton’s ice cold vampire blood almost feel warmer. There were moments when he remembered he’d once had a heart and he swore he could feel it beating.
And Digger seemed to know all this. He dressed slowly, as if he were doing the opposite of a striptease act by putting his clothes on instead of taking them off. He stepped into his tight jeans by pointing his toes in a seductive way and sliding them into the fabric an inch at a time. Before he got them up and pulled up the zipper, he turned so his back would face Anton, bent over a little, and arched his back on purpose. Then he wiggled a few times, pulled up his jeans, and glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready in a minute, buddy,” he said.
Anton smiled. He knew what Digger wanted to hear. “You’d better, or I’m going to lose control and fuck that ass until you can’t move.” The most interesting thing they shared in secret was neither of them had rules when it came to sex. They took turns fucking and sucking each other and neither of them was ever labeled a bottom or top.
“What would your mom and dad say if they heard you now?” Digger asked. This part of their relationship had always been a secret between just them. Even though they weren’t actually related to each other, their clan from Sicily had specific rules where vampires who were considered related because of who had actually turned them were not allowed to have sexual relationships. In this case, because the same vampire had fathered—turned—Angelo and Uncle Sonny, he was considered Anton and Digger’s grandfather, which made them cousins according to the rules of their clan. It made about as much sense as any rule or dogma of organized religion, and technically they were not cousins or related at all, but it was the law of their clan and they had to abide by it.
Anton frowned. “You know exactly what they would say. They’d either stick wooden stakes through both our hearts for shaming them or they would confine us to our coffins for eternity somewhere in Sicily.”
Digger put on a black T-shirt and reached for black socks. “I hope they put us in the same coffin if that ever happens. I wouldn’t mind being next to you for eternity.”
“What up with you?” Anton said. He hadn’t seen Digger in a mood like this in months. They normally ignored any deep emotions or feelings they felt for each other. They’d been doing it for so long it had become normal.
Digger grabbed a pair of black leather shoes and said, “I gets to me sometimes, is all, man.” He shrugged and glanced down to tie his shoes. “I miss you and I get pissed. The only reason why I screw around so much is because I can’t be with you.”
When Digger got into one of these dark moods, Anton knew how to handle him better than anyone. “Knock it off and let’s get out of here, buddy. We have to work and we don’t have time to screw around.” Anton understood him; he often felt the same way himself. He didn’t understand why they had to keep their feelings a secret. Not all vampire clans had these strict rules; just these Old World Sicilian clans. There were times he felt as if he were living in an Amish vampire clan. He also knew if he’d given in to Digger’s mood it would have made things worse. The only way to motivate him was to give him orders and take control…without being too obvious about it.
Evidently, Digger knew this, too. He sent Anton a backward glance and smiled. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
On the way down to the parking lot, they punched each other and joked around in the elevator. If anyone had seen them they would have thought they were a couple of college kids without a care in the world. When they reached the parking lot, Digger pulled a set of keys from his pocket and held them up high. He jiggled them and said,
“Let’s take my car.”
This was news to Anton. “When did you get a car?” Uncle Sonny had taken away his last car because he’d been caught driving ninety miles an hour on the wrong side of the Garden State Parkway.
“My dad got it for me,” Digger said. “It’s a brand new Cadillac CTS.”
Anton glared and said, “Then what the fuck am I doing here? Why didn’t you just pick me up?”
Digger looked up at him with a seductive sideways glance and smiled. “I thought we’d have some fun when you got here. I didn’t know you’d be all serious. You’re the only reason I’m living here, so there’s a place for us to go. I hate this fucking place.”
He couldn’t get mad at him no matter how hard he tried. Digger could make most people crazy to the point of distraction. He was prone to nasty one-liners that put people in their places, he would insult anyone without thinking twice, and he would bounce and move so fast sometimes it looked as though his battery had been overcharged. But even the worst things he did made Anton smile. So he put his hand on Digger’s back, shoved him forward, and said, “After work I’ll come back here. I’ll call them and tell them I’m bunking with you because I’m tired.” This wasn’t unusual. And his mom and dad would never even think they were having sex together. They’d shared the same coffin many times over the years and no one gave it a second thought, not even Dino and that little bastard could sniff out trouble for miles away.
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When the deer started showing up in the wooded area behind the pool, Anton Pagano would glance out of the second story window of his bedroom and watch the way his dad, Angelo, tried to coax them toward the house so he could feed them pieces of stale bread and bits of sfogliatelle that had been sitting in the refrigerator for too long. It would be dark by then and Anton’s mom would be in the kitchen making cocktails of fresh human blood that had been left in a small insulated container next to the back door earlier that day by their neighbor Dr. Morris.
When they’d first moved into the expensive northern New Jersey neighborhood of Short Hills five years earlier, they’d made Dr. Morris aware of their needs and he’d always been willing to accommodate them. Anton’s dad had made it clear that if Dr. Morris didn’t they would make a cocktail out of him. Without any questions asked, the blood was at the back door every night and Dr. Morris was paid well for being so agreeable.
On a dark, cloudy night in July, a night when the deer would be out in full force, Anton opened the lid of his sleeping chamber and climbed out to stretch. He jogged in place a few times, and then glanced down at his naked body and smiled. He’d always considered it his good fortune to have been turned at the age of twenty-two. He would always be lean and muscular, his hair would remain thick and dark, and he would never have to work to attract much attention. He jiggled the muscles in his lean, defined chest and stroked his flat abdomen a few times. His only regret was he’d been turned before men had started shaving their body hair. Though he wasn’t considered hairy or offensive, he did have a touch of dark fuzz on his chest, his lower abdomen, and his legs. Trying to remove it now proved futile because it would only grow back seconds later.
He ran his fingers through his hair and crossed to the bedroom window in his bare feet. As he glanced down, he saw his dad standing at the far end of the swimming pool with both arms stretched forward and a piece of stale bread in each hand. He’d never understood this obsession his dad had with the deer. There were days when the deer were the only thing that made him smile. Anton considered them the dumbest creatures on earth, and if their blood hadn’t been so bitter he would have feasted on them daily just to keep the population down. They were nothing more than rats with hooves. It was getting so bad in that part of New Jersey they seemed to be everywhere, and he’d already ruined two Cadillac Escalades by slamming into them on Route 80.
He turned from the window and crossed to his closet, dismissing the deer and his dad. When he opened the wide double doors and stepped into the large open dressing area, he pulled a pair of black jeans from a shelf, a skimpy white mock turtleneck from another, and a new pair of Gucci socks he’d been dying to wear. He was starting a new job that night and he wanted to look better than the other guys. His dad owned a few nightclubs in New Jersey and New York and Angelo had been pressuring him to do something with his time. Even though he was over one hundred years old, like most people who looked as young as he was, he didn’t feel motivated or obliged to do anything. If his dad hadn’t owned the nightclubs he would have had the same excuse his human friends had: there were no jobs out there and there was nothing he could do.
But that was an excuse Anton couldn’t use. He’d never actually worked and didn’t see the point. Anton knew he could do what he wanted, get whatever he wanted, and live forever without having to work. But his dad had this obsession about fitting in with everyone else and being as normal as possible—as if that were possible— which was the main reason they lived in a Mc Mansion in the suburbs of Northern New Jersey instead of the south of France or the Italian Riviera. But more than that, Anton’s dad was his maker and he called the shots, and there was nothing Anton could do about it, because the bond between a vampire and his creator was as strong as the bond between parent and child.
After he put on his new Prada loafers, he glanced down at the bulge in his crotch and adjusted it. His wore his pants tight and sometimes he had issues with his penis. On the night he’d been turned he’d just finished masturbating and his penis had been semi-erect at the exact moment the transformation from human to vampire took place. Because of this, it meant his penis would always remain semi-erect and there was nothing he could do to make it go completely flaccid. It could grow fully erect; he’d never had a problem in that department. But going completely limp was impossible. And it often created problems with the clothes he wore. In the summertime he was forced to wear loose baggy swim trunks at night and let his penis fall into the legs of his trunks. Skimpy tight swim trunks were out of the question; they made him look obnoxious and vulgar. In this respect he was lucky he’d never have to deal with sunshine like his human friends.
He patted his crotch and put on his Rolex. He grabbed the keys to his new Escalade and headed downstairs to the kitchen. When he reached the family room off the kitchen, he saw his mom standing in front of the French doors that overlooked the pool, with a martini glass of fresh blood in each hand and a pitiful frown on her face.
“What’s he doing now?” Anton asked as he crossed to the center island and picked up a glass of blood that his mom had left for him on the black granite counter. “I saw him trying to feed them again from my bedroom window. I just don’t get what he sees in them.”
Anton’s mom, Marian Pagano, sighed and said, “He’s trying to get them to eat out of his hand now. He’s determined to make them pets or something. I just don’t get it either.” Her voice sounded sad and her sentences dropped at the end.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Anton said. His dad was one hundred years older than he was and should have known better than to even attempt something like this. Animals of all kinds, wild or domestic, could sense they were vampires and they never came too close. The most ferocious lion in the jungle would take one look at a vampire and run the other way with its tail between its legs.
“I’m afraid not,” Marian said. “It’s like he’s obsessed with them. And I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been thinking therapy might help.”
Before Anton could reply, his younger brother, Dino, walked into the kitchen and sent Anton a nasty look. “I hope you didn’t drink all the blood, you big gay gavone.”
“Fuck you, ass-wipe breeder-feeder,” Anton said. Dino had been turned fifty years after Anton had become a vampire and Dino had been eighteen at the time. They looked nothing alike. Dino was blond and had practically no body hair at all. He walked with a lighter step and had silver-blue eyes that seemed to give him a sense of superiority over everyone else in the house. He often referred to Anton as a gavone, which loosely meant impolite and crude in Italian.
“Fuck you, cocksucker,” Dino said. He was also straight and looked down on Anton because he was gay.
“Now, boys, don’t argue,” Marian said. “There’s plenty of blood for everyone. I even added a little kitten blood tonight to make it extra special for my baby.” When she said “her baby,” they all knew she was referring to Dino. The nasty little vampire fucker could do no wrong in her eyes. She didn’t dislike Anton, but she’d never treated him the same way she’d treated Dino. And Anton had a feeling it was because he was gay and Dino was straight. At the time Anton had been turned, they had no idea he was attracted to men. The first hundred years he didn’t even mention it to them. But when they caught him in the back seat of a Buick in the 1960s, with a Marine from Fort Dix on top of him, he told them the truth and nothing had been quite the same since.
Dino sent Anton a nasty smile, gloating at the way their mom favored him so openly.
Anton clenched his fists and bit his bottom lip. He knew it would do nothing to complain or mention this to his mom. She would deny treating Dino better than she treated Anton. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Dino finished his glass of blood and frowned at the bulge in Anton’s pants. He pointed and said, “I guess you’re going for the more dignified look on you first night at work.”
“At least I have dick,” Anton said. Then he glanced at Dino’s flat crotch and smiled.
“Boys, please stop it,” Marian said. She turned from the French doors and walked back to the center island. “Your father is coming back and I don’t want him getting upset. That’s the last thing I need.”
At least trying to feed the deer put their dad in a good mood. He tended to be high-strung and was prone to fits of rage for no apparent reason at all sometimes. But that night, as he padded through the French doors in his boxers and bathrobe, he smiled at everyone and said, “I almost had them tonight. The little fuckers almost came right up and ate out of my hand.”
Dino and Marian exchanged a quick glance, and Anton looked down at his shoes. This comment coming from a man who had done some of the worst things imaginable to human beings sounded almost ridiculous.
Angelo walked to the island and picked up the entire crystal pitcher and swallowed the rest of the fresh blood. After he wiped his lips and belched, he turned to Anton and said, “You’re picking Digger up tonight on your way to work. You’re going to run an errand for me on the way.” He spoke with a typical northern New Jersey accent, pronouncing th as d and dropping the letter g from all words ending in ing.
Anton finished his blood and set the martini glass on the black granite. “An errand? I thought I’d be working at the club in Livingston tonight.” He’d done errands for Angelo before and they’d always been events that left him less than thrilled. The last time he’d ruined his best Gucci loafers throwing some hoodlum’s body into the East River.
Angelo turned and sent Anton one of those looks where he squinted and smiled at the same time. He’d been turned in the eighteenth century, as a middle-aged man with a paunch and almost bald head. “Don’t fucking ask questions, you dumb shit. Just do what I say and always remember I’m the boss. I made you and I can break you whenever I want.”
Marian sighed. “Do you have to be so fucking nasty all the time, Angelo? Why don’t you pretend he’s one of your fucking precious deer instead of your son?” When she became angry her accent sounded more Brooklyn—fucking sounded more like “fockin.”
Angelo sent her a glare; his fangs popped out. “Don’t fuck with me.”
Anton felt a pull in his stomach. When his mom and dad argued it felt as if a tornado had slammed into the house.
Dino glanced between them and smiled as if he were enjoying the entertainment.
Marian slammed her glass on the table and said, “Don’t you fucking talk to me that way! I’m just as old as you are and you’re not my fucking boss.” For a small blond woman who’d worn a size four for hundreds of years, she wasn’t intimidated easily. Though they all knew Angelo was indeed the boss, they also knew he couldn’t live without Marian. She catered to him as if she were his mother, and he’d come to depend on that.
“It’s okay, mom,” Anton said. “I don’t mind.”
Angelo made a fist and pounded the granite, showing them he was still the boss. The crystal martini glasses jiggled and the entire room went silent. A moment later, he took a breath, hid his fangs, and sent Anton a smile. “Thank you for being so compliable, your highness.”
Dino rolled his eyes.
Anton knew his dad was being sarcastic, but he didn’t want to irritate him. So he shrugged and said, “I’d better go pick up Digger now. He probably won’t even be dressed by the time I get there.”
On the way out, he kissed Marian on both cheeks and Angelo patted him on the back. Dino turned toward the refrigerator and made no attempt to say anything. Being ignored that way didn’t bother Anton anymore. They both knew that even though Anton was gay, he was stronger, smarter, better looking, and knew how to take control the same way Angelo did. In many ways, Anton often felt a little sorry for his younger brother, and that was mainly because Dino’s strongest feature was that he’d always known his own weaknesses. The arrogance he directed toward Anton was merely his own way of compensating because he was such an inferior vampire.
***
Digger lived in the Vailsburg section of Newark, New Jersey, located in the West Ward next to the Garden State Parkway. It could be an interesting neighborhood for those unfamiliar with it. Some parts were as rough as any inner city in the country, and where it bordered South Orange things started to calm down the closer you came to Seton Hall University. The only reason Digger lived there was because he enjoyed being so close to the college. He was one of those vampires that didn’t distinguish between the sexes. Depending on his fickle moods, there was no telling whether or not he would go for men or women.
He lived in one of the Ivy Hill apartments on Manor Drive, a tall red brick complex with a cluster of buildings that had always reminded Anton of old TV shows from the 1960s, where bleach blond women lived with slick talking men who chain smoked and wore hats and suits all the time. And Digger rarely met him at the entrance outside. Anton had long forgotten to expect anything more from him. So he parked the Escalade, climbed out, and took the elevator to the fifth floor.
The halls smelled of onions and garlic and remnants of what people in other apartments had cooked for dinner. Because Anton’s sense of smell was so intense, he often forced himself to breathe through his mouth so he could take the foul smell of food. It had been so long since he’d actually eaten a meal he’d forgotten what food tasted like, but he’d never be able to forget the rank aroma of onions and garlic as long as he had to keep coming to Ivy Hill to pick up Digger.
He knocked on the door and Digger said, “C’mon in, dude.”
When he entered he found Digger walking around nude, with his penis flopping against his thighs. Although they called themselves cucini, cousins, in a figurative sense, they weren’t related by a genetic connection. Digger’s dad, Uncle Sonny, was Anton’s dad’s best friend. Uncle Sonny and Angelo had both been turned by the same vampire in Sicily hundreds of years earlier and they considered themselves fratelli, brothers. They’d migrated to the US together in the late 1800s and gone into business. Although Angelo had always been the boss, Uncle Sonny was second in command in their clan. The businesses they’d owned had varied through the years, from bootlegging during prohibition, to drugs—or anything that was considered illegal. Their latest venture with nightclubs was the first time they’d done something legitimate, and the nightclubs were basically just fronts where they could launder money, deal in prostitution, and look respectable.
Digger’s real name was Michael Armentelli. They called him Digger because he’d once had to dig his way into the earth to avoid being killed by the sun. It happened in 1932, back when he was still considered a baby vampire. He’d been out screwing around and had forgotten about the time. When he realized it was almost dawn and there wasn’t a coffin anywhere to be found, he started digging until he reached a safe place to sleep. After that, Uncle Sonny was so proud his son had been so resourceful he started calling him Digger and it caught on so well no one ever called him Michael anymore.
“You’re not even dressed,” said Anton. He smiled at the way Digger’s dick bounced against his thigh. It was thick at the base and tapered a little at the head.
Digger must have seen Anton staring, because he loped over in his bare feet and put his arms around him. He kissed Anton on the mouth and moved closer, pressing his groin into Anton’s and rubbing it up and down. When he removed his tongue from Anton’s mouth, he squeezed his biceps and said, “You look hot tonight.”
Anton smiled. He reached down and found Digger’s cock fully erect. “We don’t have time for this. My dad said we have to run an errand for him. He said you know all about it.”
Digger didn’t seem to be in a rush. He held Anton tighter and started rubbing his entire body up and down against Anton’s torso in a sleazy way. “We always have time to be nice to each other.”
One of the things that Anton had always loved most about Digger was his ability to be slightly sleazier than other vampires. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, and he’d proven that more than once to Anton. “Put on your pants and get ready. We can be nice to each other later, you little slut fang fucker.”
They joked around like this all the time. Digger didn’t take offense; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. “You’re no fun anymore. There was a time when your pants would be down and your legs would be up if you saw me naked. I think you’re getting old.”
“We’re both getting too old for that,” Anton said. “They expect things from us now, and we have to show them we can do what they want.” He slapped Digger on the ass and pushed him away. “Go get dressed. And put that ugly dick away.”
Although Digger had a reputation for being obstinate with most people, he rarely ever questioned Anton’s authority. So he turned slowly and walked back to his closet. Anton watched every move Digger made, with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes wide open. Digger had a lean, lanky frame, dark long hair that stopped at his neck, and a tiny backside that rounded out more than most men. When he walked, he seemed to glide and the two indentations at the small of his back moved with each step in a way that made Anton’s ice cold vampire blood almost feel warmer. There were moments when he remembered he’d once had a heart and he swore he could feel it beating.
And Digger seemed to know all this. He dressed slowly, as if he were doing the opposite of a striptease act by putting his clothes on instead of taking them off. He stepped into his tight jeans by pointing his toes in a seductive way and sliding them into the fabric an inch at a time. Before he got them up and pulled up the zipper, he turned so his back would face Anton, bent over a little, and arched his back on purpose. Then he wiggled a few times, pulled up his jeans, and glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready in a minute, buddy,” he said.
Anton smiled. He knew what Digger wanted to hear. “You’d better, or I’m going to lose control and fuck that ass until you can’t move.” The most interesting thing they shared in secret was neither of them had rules when it came to sex. They took turns fucking and sucking each other and neither of them was ever labeled a bottom or top.
“What would your mom and dad say if they heard you now?” Digger asked. This part of their relationship had always been a secret between just them. Even though they weren’t actually related to each other, their clan from Sicily had specific rules where vampires who were considered related because of who had actually turned them were not allowed to have sexual relationships. In this case, because the same vampire had fathered—turned—Angelo and Uncle Sonny, he was considered Anton and Digger’s grandfather, which made them cousins according to the rules of their clan. It made about as much sense as any rule or dogma of organized religion, and technically they were not cousins or related at all, but it was the law of their clan and they had to abide by it.
Anton frowned. “You know exactly what they would say. They’d either stick wooden stakes through both our hearts for shaming them or they would confine us to our coffins for eternity somewhere in Sicily.”
Digger put on a black T-shirt and reached for black socks. “I hope they put us in the same coffin if that ever happens. I wouldn’t mind being next to you for eternity.”
“What up with you?” Anton said. He hadn’t seen Digger in a mood like this in months. They normally ignored any deep emotions or feelings they felt for each other. They’d been doing it for so long it had become normal.
Digger grabbed a pair of black leather shoes and said, “I gets to me sometimes, is all, man.” He shrugged and glanced down to tie his shoes. “I miss you and I get pissed. The only reason why I screw around so much is because I can’t be with you.”
When Digger got into one of these dark moods, Anton knew how to handle him better than anyone. “Knock it off and let’s get out of here, buddy. We have to work and we don’t have time to screw around.” Anton understood him; he often felt the same way himself. He didn’t understand why they had to keep their feelings a secret. Not all vampire clans had these strict rules; just these Old World Sicilian clans. There were times he felt as if he were living in an Amish vampire clan. He also knew if he’d given in to Digger’s mood it would have made things worse. The only way to motivate him was to give him orders and take control…without being too obvious about it.
Evidently, Digger knew this, too. He sent Anton a backward glance and smiled. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
On the way down to the parking lot, they punched each other and joked around in the elevator. If anyone had seen them they would have thought they were a couple of college kids without a care in the world. When they reached the parking lot, Digger pulled a set of keys from his pocket and held them up high. He jiggled them and said,
“Let’s take my car.”
This was news to Anton. “When did you get a car?” Uncle Sonny had taken away his last car because he’d been caught driving ninety miles an hour on the wrong side of the Garden State Parkway.
“My dad got it for me,” Digger said. “It’s a brand new Cadillac CTS.”
Anton glared and said, “Then what the fuck am I doing here? Why didn’t you just pick me up?”
Digger looked up at him with a seductive sideways glance and smiled. “I thought we’d have some fun when you got here. I didn’t know you’d be all serious. You’re the only reason I’m living here, so there’s a place for us to go. I hate this fucking place.”
He couldn’t get mad at him no matter how hard he tried. Digger could make most people crazy to the point of distraction. He was prone to nasty one-liners that put people in their places, he would insult anyone without thinking twice, and he would bounce and move so fast sometimes it looked as though his battery had been overcharged. But even the worst things he did made Anton smile. So he put his hand on Digger’s back, shoved him forward, and said, “After work I’ll come back here. I’ll call them and tell them I’m bunking with you because I’m tired.” This wasn’t unusual. And his mom and dad would never even think they were having sex together. They’d shared the same coffin many times over the years and no one gave it a second thought, not even Dino and that little bastard could sniff out trouble for miles away.
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