Things fell into a routine which felt alien. Each night involved restless slumber like I was detoxing. Shivers and sweats woke me up frequently. I wound down at night by walking, normally near midnight, trying to exhaust myself so sleep would be easier.

Sitting in front of a television didn't help. Rachel's home cooked meals didn't help. Work, exercise, keeping a log of my dreams, nothing made a difference.

Some nights there was a vague feeling of being dragged along. Occasionally I woke up in strange places with jumbled thoughts. One Sunday I ran downstairs at four in the morning. I did three laps around the house before it dawned on me that we weren't being robbed. Another morning I woke up clutching at a phone, listening to that strange woman's voicemail again. Other times I sat there, drawing a badly distorted face onto paper napkins. Once I woke up to a vision of some rail-thin blonde woman frowning down at me then it vanished. I chalked it up to an out of place nightmare.

Days were easier. I got out well before dawn, ran, came home, then ate. Work consisted of listening to pure silence or inane drivel. After work was another meal then a few hours of free time before these evening practices. Most nights I joined them. It was a much-needed distraction from the turbulence my nights contained.

Fitting in wasn't too hard. They weren't all chatterboxes and those that were kept the introductions to a minimum. The movements were calming just like Tal had said. Learning the steps wasn't hard at all. Though having one of the twins adjust my stance was awkward. Having other people, all other people, touch me was disturbing. I liked my personal bubble. After a few sessions, I became just another figure in the crowd moving along for an hour each night.

Not once had Roy asked anyone for money. Neither did the twins, whom I believed were his sons. If not then nephews or related definitely. They had the same barrel-like bodies, thick muscles, and tinted shades. This whole situation seemed to be all about family.

The membership of our little gathering changed nightly. Very few people were there every time. Roy's family was constant. Tal was there most nights, along with his large white-furred canine named Senior.

One of the few pestering people was a guy named Steven. His response to corrections was to laugh like a child. Half his time around our exercises was spent hitting on the girls. He clearly only joined this with one goal in mind. Getting laid.

It was difficult to blame him. I tried not to leer at the females as we moved. The twins seemed to take offense with straying glances. That was a shame since those ladies were definitely built for sin. They wore warm clothes that left little to the imagination. Tans, no tans, hair different colors, eyes, nose, face, bust sizes, all different, yet they held the same allure.

It had been awhile for me as well, and that was certainly frustrating.

Roy and Tal left shortly after practice nearly every night. They were both machines. Going from one thing to the next. I usually saw Tal off and on all day, no matter what shift my work ended up with. How he managed to go off to work after being active all day was beyond me.

Roy was different. He showed up in his car just before the meetings and not once did I see him during the day. The man didn’t appear to live in town.

Two weeks passed bouncing between war-torn nights and peaceful days. Television news played the same stories out till everyone was sick. The strike moved slowly and entire production lines had ground to a halt. Next year's cars would be later than expected. Buildings weren't making it up in time. Wolves were looking like the probable winners of this dispute.

Vampires were still gathering support to fill the empty Tribunal spot. Six candidates had been whittled down to four. Most of their races petitions had been placed on hold until a three-person vote could be applied. No one noticed the hiccups it might have caused. Vampire justice was often met out based on a very well established series of laws. Their Tribunal really only got to vote on strange occurrences or to overturn outdated rulings. Most vampires that had survived the change were from older generations. Adjusting their habits was like herding hungry cats with an army of plump mice.

On the third week, Roy took a break and his two sons were left teaching the class. Their movements weren't nearly as smooth but were well practiced. The group kept going without much of a pause. During that week, Steven finally broke me down.

Since I joined the little group the shaggy brown haired man had glommed onto me. Frequently he tried to get me to go drinking with him after a workout. The guy seemed to lack a male friend. Not that he was wanting for female companionship. When he failed at getting me to drink he somehow talked his way into giving one of the ladies a ride home. It wasn't a one-time occurrence either.

I was annoyed frequently when he talked and several of the women showed the same displeasure on their faces. Yet they still willing got into his car. Of course, there were people like that. Great in some situations and aggravating everywhere else.

We finally hit the bar, essentially because I had enough pestering. I sat calmly on a stool trying to stick with water. Drinking seemed like a terrible idea. Steven had no compassion for my abstinence.

"This place is actually decent." Steven failed at whispering to me. He wasn't dressed in anything special, slacks and a shirt that might pass for office appropriate attire. Ladies noticed, then tried to ignore him as soon as his mouth opened.

"I guess," I said.

"Is this your first time in here?” He asked and I nodded my head. “Ah man, say it ain’t so. Bars need patrons. Guys like us need drinks. It's a great circle of codependency."

"Right." I blinked.

"Tried this one? Sunspots, looks cool-" Steven slid over a drink he picked up. "-but too fruity for me. All yours."

"Thanks." I stared at the drink. An illusion of slow fire mixing together concocted by orange and tomato juice. Hopefully a few layers of alcohol in between. "You’re okay buying me a drink?" I raised an eyebrow at Steven.

"Sure. Last job just paid out, so tonight's on me. You can buy next time." He smiled broadly.

"Fine." I sipped at the drink. It was good. Soon I drained the whole thing, forgetting about my dislike for liquor.

"Now it's a party!" Steven shouted and clapped me on the back.

Our celebration consisted of maybe six of us and the single employee running the place. Tennison wasn't big enough to support a larger establishment. Not like this one place I used to frequent. The name of that prior establishment escaped me at the moment.

"So, tell me about yourself, James. What makes you tick?"

"Not much to tell," I responded while looking around for the next drink. Should I order something or was Steven on top of that? Fingers clutched the water glass and tried to focus.

"Sure, everyone says that. It's always a lie.” He kept spinning in his stool. “Everyone's got a story. Roy and Tal think highly of you."

"And badly of you." I quipped.

"You wound me! How dire." Steven took a gulp or ten of his beer and procured a refill.

"That's what it seems like." I defended my words. I barely knew Steven and was annoyed with him a lot of the time. Still, offending him was probably a bad idea. That was a good way to feel unwelcome in a small town.

"It's true. I had an altercation with Chief Grumpy when we first met. That's my story by the way.” He shook the latest refill at me and I followed the glass around. “A lifetime of poor choices followed by a chance at redemption."

"That's a quick description." I pulled myself back and responded. The world felt slightly more numb and that delighted me.

"No one's really interested in my life, James."

He was right, and I couldn't bring myself to lie to the man. Not even to say something nice and uplifting. That wasn't who I was. James Fields didn't play the nice and supportive friend who was there to make people feel better. He, I kept to myself when allowed.

"So, talk away. Regale me with tales of daring wit and bravery." Steven pressed onward.

"I travel around a lot, been here for about a month, seems like a nice place." My head felt a bit fuzzy trying to recall all the details.

"Delightfully enthralling. Though I'll admit, this town is pretty good, it'll be better once these network upgrades are done."

"Is that why you're here?" I asked.

"One of the reasons. Most of my work can be done from anywhere, but, conveniently, I'm being paid to oversee some construction lines for high-speed internet for this county." He chatted happily regardless of the rapidly emptying cup in one hand. The man was unaffected.

"Exciting."

"It is," Steven said with a sly look. "Anyway, Tennison's a great place, not the best place, but certainly has a homegrown feel. Very natural."

I followed Steven's eyes around the small room. He wasn't talking about the food when he mentioned homegrown. His attention was on a rather well-endowed woman in a pushup bra a few seats over that had recently entered. Hell. The man never stopped.

"You're taking to the old man well. Or at least he believes you are." Steven said while staring intensely.

"He's-" How could I describe Tal without being offensive? "-intense."

"And a gabber, and fiery when drunk. Can’t imagine him being so friendly, the man seems like a Four Star General that finally stopped taking life so seriously.” Steven shrugged then kept on babbling. “He's good with stories. Tal once told me a two-hour tale about a splinter in his foot. Complete with moral. Aesop would have been proud."

"Who?" I asked.

"Old Greek dude, back before the purge.” His hand rolled over and over to emphasize a large amount of time. “The guy's stories were as much rules for living as they were warnings. I often wonder how many of his works were torn apart because of their fantastical nature."

"Greek?" I felt dumb. The word stirred something, but I couldn't quite make the connection.

"Yeah. Greeks are from Greece." Now he was making fun of me. I didn't really take offense, though. "An ocean or two away, near that boot on the globe? One of the few sectors to retain its original name. Besides the Eastern provinces."

"Oh." I knew the boot. "How many stories survived?"

"Not enough. They translate weird too. Gutted and censored by Western Sector, the past repeating again. For our own protection!" Steven looked disgusted but didn't lose his smile.

There were times I felt out of my depth. This was one of them, but part of me actually was interested. No one spoke about the purge or events before it in real life. Only old guys on television who were dry and boring talked about history. Them, and Steven.

"You know most of our language comes from that whole region?" His eyes were clearly wandering, but his mouth spun a different story.

"I did not."

"Yeah. Talk to a vampire, if you dare, they know all sorts of stuff about how the world changed.” Steven gulped down more swill then lifted his glass to the barkeep. “I roamed this site with interviews for tracking down entire chunks of missing history."

"Sounds dull."

"It is, not as boring as church, but dry. I couldn't do it. Still, bits were interesting. Skimmed it a few months ago. Was stealing some coding from their site." The man had this perpetual grin on his face and didn't come across as disturbed or upset by anything we talked about. He was more interested in talking than leading to any specific destination.

"You know any other languages?" I ventured. Maybe Steven wanted to talk about this topic. He'd put us here after all.

"Besides computer ones? Nah, never studied them. Too busy with video games and taking electronics apart. You?"

"Random words." How I learned them was another mystery, but yes, my brain had a few phrases shoved in it.

"Shoot." He drank down a glass and gave me a happy glare. "Let's hear some."

I had the perfect one. It summed up how I felt about Steven half the time he talked.

"Backpfeifengesicht," The world rolled out oddly. Probably messed up. Missing emphasis in the right places. I'd only heard it used once or twice while traveling on the east coast.

It was funnier when Steven tried to repeat it and failed. He sounded like a goat trying to get out the middle part.

"What's it mean?"

"It’s German. You should look it up." I said.

"Germans are from Germany. Or whatever sector absorbed the country." I couldn't tell if Steven was being clever or trying to make a joke. "Too hard. Give me another one."

I spouted a few others. Words that didn't translate directly into English. My drinking partner had fun trying to say them. All without a hint of a lisp. Clearly the drinking didn't impact his ability to speak. Sadly.

"One more." He prompted.

"Ab initio," This one had been bothering me. The word had surfaced in my memory after a particularly bad nightmare last weekend.

"Yeah, what's that, German again?"

"No. Latin." I didn’t explain the rest of it. The phrase loosely meant 'from the beginning'. Why that was important was beyond me.

"What's it mean? Something dirty?" It was becoming clear that Steven didn't really care what the words meant. He just wanted to hear the sounds. "I hear those vampire chicks dig dirty talk in Latin. Might help me to know some."

"This won’t help." I gave a snort of laughter.

"Probably best. They're wildcats, like trying to tame two hungry lions when you're a steak." He rambled onto the new topic. Taming lions sounded like it took a set of balls I didn't have. I would happily fight another man, but fighting a fast moving cat wasn't a good idea.

"Personal experience?" I asked.

"Nah, my brothers."

"He told you?"

"The coroner did." Steven frowned for a moment. That was the first time any expression besides glazed happiness crossed his face.

"Ouch," I said gently.

"No worries, he died with a smile on his face and woman in each arm.” Steven lifted his glass up and looked towards the ceiling. Seconds later he swallowed the entire container down. “Can't ask for much more than that. Even if they were comatose due to daylight."

"That's something," I said. It probably made a good picture. A dead horn dog with two lifeless naked bodies next to him. Signs of sexual activity everywhere.

"He would have been insufferable if he'd lived. Every tale swap would end with 'Did I tell about the two vampire burnouts I banged?' and then I'd have to try and top him."

"Not sure you could." Not sure anyone remotely sane would try.

"Sure I could. I'm good at what I do, very good. It'd just take a lot of convincing." Steven said.

The conversation continued like that. The irritatingly friendly man tried to convince me of what he could talk the ladies into. He babbled about Game theory, Keno patterns, and how confidence impacted things. I gave up trying to hold my own. Soon I was responding in whatever way would rile him up more.

Drinks kept flowing, the one bartender didn't question because Steven kept throwing money down onto the counter. Somehow Steven was still able to talk coherently. Our bartender, excellent man that he was, made the rest of our conversations none of his business.

Things grew hazy for me around the fifth round of drinks. Steven wasn't held back in the slightest. He polished off his beers faster than any creature I had ever seen.

"You should stop doing that," Steven said between drinks.

"What?" I said through half my mouth. The word spilled out with a few extra syllables for good measure.

"Chewing on your wrist. It looks like you’re half rabid. You're not secretly a biter are you?" Steven had the entire pitcher in his hands now. He must have been nearing a toxic level of blood alcohol and barely cared. The bartender stopped and took note of us with a critical eye.

I ignored them and kept chewing.

"No." My arm itched like crazy.

"Bitten by a vampire? Or two? Tell me you didn't succeed in the double fang-bang!"

"No." That felt like a partial lie.

"Well, whatever, stop chewing. Grossing me out. Can't get my inebriation on properly." He took the entire pitcher and proceeded to pour it down his gullet in three outrageous gulps.

I was stunned. So was the bartender. It was about that time he decided we were well over the legal limit and proceeded to explain how we were cut off for the night.

I tried to protest, saying that my share of the drinking had been minimal. It was a failure. Steven argued his way into one more beer, wandered over to a lone female, chatted, seduced, and proceeded out the door with her under one arm in two minutes.

Huh. I put down some money on the counter as a tip. It wasn't much, but neither was my income.

"That a friend of yours?" The bartender engaged in conversation for the first time since our arrival. For the last hour, the lean man had been handing out a few drinks and spending most of his time on a phone, probably texting someone.

"Sort of. Just met him. Kind of annoying." I admitted.

"Yeah, man. I can see how." He said.

"Just trying to get to know people." My shoulder lifted in a half shrug.

"Tennison keeps to its own."

"Really?" I blinked slowly and felt my head wobble. After a moment, the rest of my thought came out. "Everyone’s been unusually friendly then." Almost five weeks in this town and no one felt even vaguely standoffish.

"Friendly sure, man but little towns like this take time to warm up to new people." The bartender said with a half smile.

I blinked. Maybe he just didn't get out much. Roy and his group had clearly been working together for a long time. They liked me. Rachel's house was filled with decades worth of material. Nothing about them gave me an impression that they hadn't always been here.

Steven, on the other hand, was out of place. Maybe there would have been better drinking buddies. Social ventures were hard enough for me, though. Being around people made me tense, except for Tal’s group of park exercising family.

"Yeah, Steven and I are new," I said with an exaggerated nod. This place wasn't that big. The bartender would have clearly heard that part of our conversation if he'd been paying attention.

"Hm." The man wrinkled his face, rubbed at a nearly shaved head, and then gave me a weary smile. "Yeah, that's good. You drop by more often and we'll be old friends soon enough, man. Anyway, have a good night."

"You too." My words were doubtful. Something about his attitude bothered me.

Oh well. If things became hectic I could leave town. No one here would be depressed if I vanished. Not after such a short stay. I would miss Rachel's cooking. Feeling happy, relaxed, slightly fuzzy, I put the bartender's misunderstood words out of my head and stumbled home.