Hello and welcome to the Blog Showdown!

This is where one of eight pilot blogs will be posted and the one that has the best engagement after three weeks from their posting will become the new permanent Monday blog!

Today we are going to be debuting Solo Stories, another creative writing sort of blog where I will be writing one off stories.

Pretty self explanatory, but I do apologize for this one coming out later than Monday, life has been very busy as of late, but hopefully this story can make up for it.

Bloodfire Club

This had to be a mistake.

I did everything for this company, and now they’re firing me?

Why?

These were just some of the thoughts that were swirling through my head as my manager was explaining in a cold monotone why they had to let me go. Something about being grateful for my time spent with the company, how they’ll provide a good reference, and the last paycheck will be processed properly.

I just stood there, doing what I could to not yell, or scream, or beg.

I knew that there wasn’t a point.

My manager said to clear my desk, I nodded and left the tiny office and went to grab what meager possessions I had in the office. They were thoughtful enough to leave a cardboard box on my desk chair.

The office was quieter than normal, having seen me enter the office and a box placed on a desk usually meant one thing. No one spoke up, not even the chatterbox of the office had anything to say. They all knew that interacting with someone who had just lost their livelihood was not in the most comfortable place, and talking to them was potentially a risk.

So they all saw me, grabbing my things and putting them in the box. It wasn’t long before I lifted the box and took a look around. The faces of the coworkers who were staring quickly went back to their computers to “work”.

A few lingered and I nodded to them with a half-smile, doing my best not to show any emotion.

I went to the elevator, the last onlookers going back to their work as I went down the shaky elevator until I hit the parking garage.

I walked to my cheap car, paid off for what small comfort that brought and started the car, almost as if it was a reflex. I sighed and drove out of the parking lot and went to the parking gate to hand over my parking badge.

The parking attendant, some teenager they hired for cheap, took the parking badge and gave the usual platitudes and I drove off.

All I had was a studio apartment that I could barely afford and now I had a month to figure out how to pay rent.

It shouldn’t be that hard, I was able to get this job fairly easily, it shouldn’t take much more than a week or so to find a new job.

I had to tell myself that, try to find the silver lining. I put the box of my things on the lone bed that was the only piece of furniture in the apartment and thought of the first few places I would apply to.

I sat next to the box and began to root through it to find a pen when I noticed something odd.

It was a red business card that I had never seen before in my life. There was only one side that had writing on it and all it said was “BLOODFIRE CLUB, 8PM, DRESS SHARP” and an address.

That address wasn’t too far from my apartment, but I had never heard of that place in my entire life. I tried looking it up on my phone, but there was nothing showing up.

How did this card end up in my things…should I go, I had nothing else planned…who put the card in my box?

I didn’t take long to think and decided that it was better than doing nothing. I had a decent suit that wasn’t too business like and made sure it was tidy before I left.

I drove to where the address was supposed to be and there was a small parking lot that was pretty packed, but luckily, I was able to find a spot in the dimly lit parking lot.

I got out of my car and looked around. There was the sound of some cars passing by and a couple of people walking around, but no door or anything that looked like a club or even a bar nearby.

“Hey mister, you lost?” a soft voice called out.

I jumped around to see who that voice belonged to. It was a beautiful woman, long black hair tied in a messy bun and wearing a very well fitted and low-cut black dress. Her bright red lipstick curled into a smile, “Oh sorry, did I scare you?”

It took me a moment to compose myself and I replied, “Yeah. Sorry, I was just looking for a place, but I might have the wrong address…”

Before I could continue, she grabbed onto my arm and said, “Bloodfire Club? It’s right over here.”

I couldn’t respond and just let her take me to the back door of a random building. There was a landing that led downstairs and she gently pulled me closer to her as we walked down the dimly lit stairs.

As we walked down the sound of music started to fill the stairwell and then as we reached the bottom of the staircase there was a dark red door with “Bloodfire Club” carved in that had a large man in a suit on either side of it.

She whispered, “Your card.”

I hastily brought out the card I had found and gave it to one of the men. He looked at it, nodded, handed it over to the other man, he nodded and gave it back to me and opened the door.

The heavy bass of the music was thumping, and a massive crowd of people were dancing all around.

At the bar on the far-left side of the room were a group of people drinking shot after shot after shot of something and on the right side of the room was the DJ who had a decent-sized crowd of people in front of him as they all seemed entranced by the music.

I very obviously had no idea what to do, but the woman who brought me seemed to know where to go, weaving through the crowd as she held on to my arm softly, yet with a surprising amount of strength in her small frame.

She led me to a back door marked “Office” and whispered in my ear, “Find me when you’re done?”

I could only give a nod as she smiled and winked, dancing her way into the crowd.

With nothing else to do, I opened the door and saw that the room was not like any office I had ever seen before. The office was black marble, floor to ceiling, which contrasted with the all-white furniture that surrounded the room. I had shut the door and the music from the other side became nearly silent while in the room.

The bookcase near the door was heavy and had books that were written in at least a dozen languages, the seating that was available were white leather armchairs that had bronze-colored studs on the back, a polar bear rug was taking a massive chunk of the floor space in the center, but in the back was a heavy set white wooden desk, with someone sitting on the other side of it.

He stood up as I entered the room and in a heavy accent that I wasn’t familiar with, European at least, said, “Yes, Mr. Rodriguez please sit down.”

I walked towards the desk slowly as he pointed at the armchair he wanted me to sit in. I sat down, nerves wracking through my body as he sat back down. He was a tall man, pale skin to match the furniture wearing a suit and long hair to match the walls.

What was really distinctive about him was his eyes, they were an amber yellow and had to be contacts.

He wrote something down and then cleared his throat and began, “Mr. Gabriel Rodriguez, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” I replied, not sure what else to say.

He smiled, “Good, good. The same Mr. Gabriel Rodriguez who was let go from Callahan Accounting, yes?”

“Yes, but…how…” I began but was immediately cut off.

“It had come to my attention that they were not, how you say, using you to your full potential. You graduated top of your class, brought in high profits for their business and all at the meager salary of $35,000 a year?” the man said, a smirk.

I sat there with my mouth agape. This seemed to satisfy this man’s question as he finished, “You see, I have an eye for spotting wasted talent, and I wish to hire you as the accountant of this establishment.”

I shook my head, “What do you mean?”

“I mean to give you a job. You are out of a job, and I am to give you one,” the man said matter of factly.

“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t even know your name,” I responded.

“Ah yes, of course how silly of me. I am Iacob Vulpe, the owner and proprietor of this establishment, and I need someone with your brilliance to be the accountant of this business,” Iacob said, giving a bow as he did so.

I was stunned, but before I could say anything Iacob said, “So, will you take the job?”

Even with the very faint sound of music, the room was silent.

“Ah, yes you are probably wondering about the pay,” Iacob said, “Well, I can promise a salary of $180,000 a year with a $20,000 upfront bonus, a five percent ownership in my club, and the best possible insurances.”

With him saying all of those benefits, a creeping thought came to mind.

“Is this a…legal operation?” I asked.

Iacob leaned away from me, surprised, “Well aren’t we the curious one. In the strictest sense, no, this business has some…below board dealings.”

“And those dealings would be?” I asked, hoping that it wouldn’t be bad.

“The exportation of humans and human blood,” Iacob said nonchalantly.

I stood up in shock, “W-what?”

Iacob stood up calmly and said in a slow voice, “I transport humans and human blood, illicitly around the country to supply for a group of individuals who feed on blood.”

“T-t-that’s ridiculous,” I stammered, backing away towards the door my eyes firmly on Iacob.

Iacob sighed and explained, “I told my daughter Gigi that this would happen, but she said to be honest and upfront because otherwise you would get suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” I replied, “Of course I would be suspicious how else-“

I was cut off as I felt a sharp pain in my gut. Iacob was suddenly in front of me, his hand deep in my stomach, and as he gave another sigh, I saw two sharp teeth in the front of his mouth.

“Then, I cannot allow you to leave,” Iacob said, his voice in a lowered whisper.

I saw his mouth distend unnaturally and he went to my neck, and I felt my body grow colder and colder at an incredible speed.

My last thought was of why I even came over in the first place and I could faintly hear the sound of the door open, as my eyes closed and everything went dark.

…

“Papa, why did you kill another one?” the woman in the black dress that brought the young man in.

“He was being impertinent, and he was going to tell people about us,” Iacob said, using a bright white handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth, “You can finish what’s left of him my dear Gigi, or leave him to the ghouls to finish, just remember to send him to the furnace keepers to clear what’s left of him.”

Gigi shook her head, “Papa, you said you wouldn’t drink this one, even if he wanted to tell the world about us.”

“So, I lied. Not the first time, nor the last time,” Iacob said, throwing the handkerchief into the trash can, “Besides, we’ve run our business for many years without an accountant, we can continue to do so.”

Gigi looked at the body of the young man, who was barely holding on to life and said, “You have only been able to do so with Pietro’s help, and he is dead. We need someone like this young man to make sure we aren’t caught.”

Iacob sighed, “Then embrace the young man into the fold, then he will be a defiant fool who will seek to kill us all as revenge. Would not be the first time.”

As Gigi saw the last light of the young man fade, she sighed as she opened her mouth and bit into the other side of the throat of Gabriel to drink what blood was left over.

“I tried to get you an amazing accountant, and you kill him for being curious about the business, you should really pick someone soon before the humans get wise,” Gigi said as the last bits of life faded from Gabriel’s body.

Iacob nodded as he crossed another name off the list. He had been through a dozen applicants, and he had thought for sure that the thirteenth one would have been the one.

Maybe the fourteenth one would prove fruitful and would work without asking questions.

In Conclusion

This is the pilot blog for Solo Stories, hopefully it being longer can make up for it being late.

Thank you for reading, see you next week with a new blog for the Blog Showdown! If you want to see more of this sort of blog, engage with it and we’ll see how it compares with the others!

Peace,

From, J.M. Casual

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