A quick note: this story is not about the titular Dad from Dadternity, but about a very fun side character. Enjoy.
Chapter One – Oscar Pays His Dues
The sun had almost completely set over the ranch, like an introverted party goer making its last excuses, and Oscar was doing his rounds. He checked the fence, in case one of his dozens of highly qualified ranch hands hadn’t noticed a gap where his cows might stampede through. He kept an eye out for coyotes and other predators who might, by some perverse miracle, evaded the career sniper that he kept on the payroll. He strolled along casually, but not slowly, as dinner was doubtless waiting and it would be magnificent.
Satisfied that no one would be stupid enough to come for his cows without an army — and he had yet to see any of those on the horizon — he began to close the loop that would bring him back to the main gate of his ranch.
Oscar Ramiro Vela Campo would be the first to admit that he was, by most standards, not a good man. That’s not to say he thought badly of himself. After all, he had a code, and he followed it to the letter. He worshipped his God, he loved and fiercely protected his families, and he was generous to a fault. For this, he was celebrated in his community.
Sure, if you asked anyone in town they’d say that, on the whole, his involvement in the drug trade, general smuggling, money laundering, and numerous mysterious disappearances was alarming. It could certainly be argued that, outside of their modest town, he did some bad things.
But he also brought infrastructure to their homes in the middle of nowhere. The Mexican government didn’t have the inclination to go around maintaining the roads, the local public schools, the parks, the surprisingly well-supplied local zoo, or the burgeoning public transportation sector. They certainly wouldn’t have made gigabit internet so readily available, and the telecom corporations had yet to step foot within two hundred kilometers of downtown, much less all the little houses, farms, and ranches that dotted the nearby countryside.
That’s to say nothing of the three museums with rotating exhibits, and two community education centers that graced a town that barely had enough qualified people to staff them. All in all, having Oscar around had worked out rather well. Besides, the oldest citizens could remember when he was in diapers. Imagine that little baby, growing up to do so much.
Yes, he’d been born to it, the eldest son of the patriarch of the Vela family. The Vela men traced their roots back to the finest, most upstanding members of organized crime that one could hope to find in Spain’s colonial age, and he’d taken to the family’s traditions with aplomb.
The fact that he’d worked tirelessly to both grow the family business, and invest in their hometown of San Nicolas, afforded him the sort of respect that can usually only be achieved by great feats of sportsmanship, or marrying a telenovela star. That last was something he had considered, however briefly, but Judith1 had caught his eye.
They’d been married over thirty years, now, and she was still the most perfect woman in the world. She was industrious, intelligent, and sly when it mattered. She was always up for a night on the town, and down for a party at the slightest provocation. And she understood him. She understood the demands of his career, and the pressures that came with being, not to put too fine a point on it, a cartel boss.
She didn’t even mind his mistresses, or the children he’d fathered by them. Well, she didn’t mind them much. Before their marriage, she’d said, “Have as many mistresses and as many children as you want, so long as they know who’s in charge. You belong to me, Oscar, and soon I’ll have the papers to prove it. Besides, you’re the one who has to pay for them.”
And he had. Even now, as he approached the gate, there was a young girl that, truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he recognized.
Despite this, he smiled easily and said, “What are you doing out here so late, Mija?2”
The girl — probably about nine years old — gave her most winning smile, and crossed her hands behind her back. She began to do that little swaying torso-twist that children do when they’re trying very hard and somewhat cynically to look adorable. Oscar wasn’t fooled, though he was duly amused.
“Wellll, Sir… there’s a school trip coming up, and that’s cheap, but I also need a new school uniform and Mama said…”
Interesting. But not all of his children called him “Papa” or anything of the like. Most of those that he’d fathered outside of his marriage wouldn’t, at least not where his wife might hear. And she hadn’t said which “Mama.” To forestall any explanations, Oscar pulled a roll of cash from one pocket and started peeling off a few bills.
He said, “Of course, of course. Education is more than sitting around with books! Get the uniform, and… how much is the trip?”
To her credit, the girl didn’t stare at the money. She looked him straight in the eye and kept up the innocent expression as she replied, “Only five hundred pesos, Sir!”
Oscar adopted an expression of mock surprise, “Five hundred! When I was your age, the trips might have cost thirty at most! Fifty, if we went somewhere fancy.”
The girl giggled, “Well, we’re doing a museum tour in Mazatlán.”
At this, Oscar was duly impressed. That was a long way for a school trip. It seemed the local education officials were using his money well. Well, they knew what would happen if they didn’t.
“In that case, five hundred is cheap,” he admitted, “but not enough. I can’t send you all the way to Mazatlán without a little spending money.”
He peeled off a few more bills, and sent the girl on her way with exhortations regarding the importance of bedtime, and staying close to her class on the trip.
He couldn’t help but smile, as she skipped her way back home in the waning light. She may or may not have been one of his, but that hardly mattered. If she was, then she was owed that money fair and square. If not, he had to respect the hustle. In any case, having tales of your generosity spread among the locals was never a bad thing.
It wasn’t that much money. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, and if Oscar’s accountant ever heard him say that, it would result in the man’s third aneurysm.
He turned away from her, and was about to finally make the trek from the front gate to the house — the mansion, really — when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow in the field across the road, nestled amongst the goats. That field belonged to Artuditu, and Oscar began to worry.
It might be nothing. Of course, surviving in his line of work as long as he had, Oscar had learned that “nothing” could result in lead poisoning if not treated promptly. But, given that it was just a random shadow amongst the goats, and he was carrying his favorite pistol as always, he decided not to call for backup immediately. Cautious or not, Oscar had a reputation to maintain, and he couldn’t sound the alarm over every little thing.
The goats themselves didn’t look spooked, so Oscar wasn’t spooked. But, just to be on the safe side, dinner could wait a little longer.
Chapter Two – Dinner
Arturo Mateo de Maria Bravo was known to his mother as Arturito, and to his friends as Artuditu since the summer of 1977, when the very first Star Wars movie had come out. He was also, as it happened, Oscar’s best friend in this entire world, and his right-hand man in the cartel. They had grown up together, gotten into the business together, and had each other’s backs in every way. They had studied together, been each other’s wingmen at bars across just about every state in Mexico, and saved each other’s lives more than once.
They even co-hosted the meetings for what they jokingly referred to as Los Illuminatontos.3 That would be, of course, the council of regional cartel bosses and other powerful players who met every month to discuss all the best ways to not kill each other, and generally avoid stepping on each other’s toes. Or shooting them off.
If something was messing with Artuditu’s goats, he ought to know about it at least. And if whatever was happening was truly criminal or disturbing, well… troubleshooting is what best friends are for. Oscar’s thoughts traveled lightly along those lines as he casually, but quietly, strolled through the shrubs and weeds that were the goats’ primary source of food.
As he got closer, the near darkness and absence of the moon prevented him from seeing any real detail. But, he began to make out a shape. It was human. A man, probably, and only a little smaller than himself. The clothes looked casual: a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. The figure was hunched over the goat, which stood stock-still, with its eyes seemingly glazed over.
That gave Oscar pause before he dismissed it as a trick of the light. He slowed his steps, and took more care not to make any noise. As he got close enough that his pistol might do some good, even at this time of evening, he planted his feet, held his pistol in a steady one-handed grip, and nearly gave himself away when he heard an awful sucking noise coming from the figure before him.
He shook his head. May the Virgin have mercy.
Finally, he raised his voice, “Whatever you’re doing to that goat, I hope you paid the guy who owns it fir…”
Before he could finish, the hunched figure was in front of him, bearing him to the ground. Oscar pulled the trigger out of reflex, but his arms were flailing and the bullet went wide. In fact, the bullet missed by about the same distance as Oscar was from understanding the current situation. He struggled, but one hand pinned his gun arm to the ground, and another held his opposite shoulder in a vice-like grip.
In the split second before Oscar assumed he was about to die, he saw the face of his attacker. The face was familiar, with high cheekbones, brown eyes, and an uncharacteristically feral expression. The most interesting thing, though, was the teeth. Two of them were a lot longer than they probably should have been, and the mouth and chin were covered in goat’s blood.
Oscar looked deep into two brown eyes speckled with dots of red that had never been there before, and began to pray.
“Dios te salve, María,
“Llena eres de gracia,
“el Señor es…”
“Shut up!” hissed the face above him. “I mean, yes, pray for me later maybe, but shut up for now! Just be cool.”
Oscar’s words of prayer faded as he began to breathe properly again.
“Okay…” he said carefully, “I can be cool. But to make that happen, Artuditu, you need to let me up, and please, please tell me you’re not the fucking Chupacabras.”
“I’m not the fucking Chupacabras.” said Artuditu, once they were both sitting upright on the scrub, the goats milling around them. Oscar had recovered his pistol, and put it away.
“Seriously, man, look at the teeth. You think these were meant for biting goat necks?” he continued.
“I dunno, man! I’ve never met a fucking Chupacabras!” protested Oscar.
“Fuck you.”
Oscar chuckled despite himself.
“Okay, fine,” he said, “you got yourself some real convincing vampire teeth. Why are you doing that to a goat? Is this a… what does Lupita call it… a cosplay thing? Like she dresses up like these cartoon girls sometimes and… well, whatever, at least she does it with human beings and…”
Artuditu held up a hand, “I don’t wanna know. I really, really don’t wanna know. And no, they’re real. Watch.”
He made an expression of concentration, and the teeth disappeared upward into his mouth.
Oscar, for perhaps the first time since he was a child, audibly gasped.
“No way!”
Artuditu was about to reply when voices approached from the direction of Oscar’s ranch, and a flashlight shone in their direction. Artuditu quickly turned his face, pretending to be blinded by the light, but hiding the blood.
“Hey, anyone here? Oh there you are, Boss!” called Jorge, one of Oscar’s guards.
“We heard a gunshot, then nothing, and…”
“Nah, it’s alright!” Oscar called back.
“I saw a coyote, scared it off,” he said, patting his holstered pistol, “And now Artuditu and I are just discussing how we’re gonna keep those little shits off his land, too.”
“Shit,” Jorge swore, “I thought we’d shot all of ’em by now.”
Oscar shrugged and said, “And so it goes. Look, go back to the ranch and tell my family to start without me, okay? I’m going to be a little while.”
Jorge nodded.
“You got it boss!”
Once the guard was a safe distance away, Oscar said, “I have gotta see those teeth again. Gimme a moment.”
He pulled out his smartphone — which one of his nephews assured him was very expensive, and had all the little back doors removed, whatever that meant — and turned on the flashlight.
“Okay, let me see them again?”
“Fine.”
Artuditu rolled his eyes, opened his mouth, and popped his fangs out again. Then he popped them back in. Oscar got even closer, trying to see where the fangs had gone.
Artuditu lightly pushed Oscar back and said, “Fuck off, man, you trying to get bit?”
Oscar thought about it.
“I mean,” he asked, “is it cool being a… vampire I guess?”
Artuditu conceded the point, “Yeah, vampire. And it’s definitely cool in some ways. Kind of a pain in the ass in other ways. For example, Father Rivera says that if I ever kill a person for their blood, I’m definitely going to hell.”
Oscar thought about this.
“But… you have killed people.”
“Yeah, for business. Did my penance, like we all do. He says it’s not the same.”
“Huh.” mused Oscar, “I’m surprised you could get into the church at all.”
“Yeah, it’s weird.” said Artuditu, “A lot of ‘rules’ seem to be more like suggestions. Turns out the sun doesn’t kill us. Just makes us weak until we’re barely any stronger or harder to kill than a regular person.”
“No shit?” asked Oscar, “And, no offense, but why would you tell me that?”
Artuditu’s expression was hurt, “Because you’re like a brother, man. Of course I’d tell you. Shit, I was always going to tell you, at some point. About all of this, you know?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Look, if it ever seems like I’m gonna lose my soul, I need someone to kill my ass. Again.”
Oscar slumped, “Oh. That’s fucked up. No pressure, huh?”
Artuditu cracked a smile, “Yeah, no pressure.”
“Anyway, that’s what the goats are for. I take a little sip here and there. I mean, I do need to drink from people, there’s something they have that I need, but the goats keep me topped up. That way, I don’t have to actually drain anybody, or the goats for that matter.”
“Wait,” said Oscar, perturbed, “You sell goat’s milk. Some of my kids drink it! What the fuck, man!?”
Artuditu actually sounded a little excited at this, “That’s what makes goats perfect! Whatever happens to them, it doesn’t get into the milk. They can eat poison ivy, poison oak, get bit by a snake (maybe), whatever. It doesn’t go into the milk.”
“Really? How do you know?”, asked Oscar.
Artuditu shrugged. “Google. Asked a couple of goat experts on Reddit, too. And I mean, it’s been a while. No one seems to have gotten hurt.”
Oscar couldn’t help himself. “The fuck’s a Reddit? You sound like my kids.”
“Oh stop…”
“No, seriously. You get your fifty-five year old ass turned into a vampire, and you turn into an internet nerd. The fuck is wrong with you?” Oscar teased.
“Oh shut the fuck up or I will eat you man.”
“Yeah, eat my entire Mexican ass!”
At this, the absurdity of the situation began to settle in, and they both started to laugh quietly, though Oscar’s laugh might have been tinged with a touch of mania. This was all just a little too much. With time, though, the laughing fit subsided, and they fell into the familiar silence of old friends.
“Okay.” said Oscar, “I can do this. I can deal with this. Shit’s weird, but maybe I’ll get lucky and catch one of those lucky little bastards. The ones with the gold?”
“The Irish things?”
“Yeah, them.”
Artuditu made a non-commital noise, and said, “I have absolutely no clue if those are real. The only thing I’m sure of is vampires.”
Oscar nodded. “Fair enough.”
After another moment of silence, he said, “You said, ‘It’s been a while.’ How long, exactly? When did this happen?”
“Three years, maybe?” mused Artuditu, “Remember those spring breakers that got very, very lost?”
“You mean those idiots who ended up in San Nicolas and insisted it had to be Los Mochis?” Oscar asked, amused.
“Yeah, them. ‘The map says we’re in Los Mochis! What do you mean we’re not in Los Mochis?’ Anyway, turns out one of them was actually a fair bit older than the rest. You might remem…”
Oscar laughed hard at this, “You’re fucking serious? That tiny little blonde thing who was all over you that night?”
Artuditu nodded. “Apparently.”
“Well that’s what you fucking deserve for going after a twenty year old you ancient piece of shit!” said Oscar, laughing even harder.
Artuditu hung his head a little, “I know, I know. Believe me. Being dead for a day or so will teach you all kinds of lessons.”
Oscar’s laughter died away. “Oh right. We couldn’t find you for a while, yeah. Now that’s a fucking hangover.”
They both reflected on this for a little longer.
“So what can you do?” asked Oscar, “Besides the actual drinking blood and the teeth?”
“Well, you’ve seen it yourself. I’m fast. And crazy strong. At least at night.” replied Artuditu.
“Can you turn into a bat? Or mist?”
“Maybe? I woudn’t have any idea where to start. That girl didn’t exactly stick around to give me the details.”
Oscar frowned, “Can you hypnotize people?”
“Uh, yeah, pretty sure. I’ve never tried, ‘cause that’s fucked up. I think that’s what the blonde did to me, right before she bit me.” Artuditu said.
“So how do you, you know, get people? To drink from?”
Artuditu shrugged again, “Some of the working ladies in town know about me, if you know what I mean. Shit, I’m pretty sure Roberta knew about vampires before I did.”
“No shit?” Oscar mused. “I’m a little annoyed that they knew before you told me… but I get it. Damn, no wonder you’ve been faster in the ring, lately. Fuckin’ cheater.”
Oscar and Artuditu had both gone to a boxing gym in their teens, and had been sparring to stay in shape ever since.
Artuditu snickered, “Oh I’ll never apologize for kicking your ass. Besides, it’s my turn.”
Oscar smiled, then his face became serious as he asked, “Does anyone else know?”
“Ummmm…”
Oscar began to use his Boss Voice, “Man, I need to know. If you’re not going to kill me here and now, that means you’re still my brother, and still my right hand man. And that means I need to know about this stuff. I get why you didn’t tell me immediately, but the secrets stop now.”
Artuditu sighed, and said, “Oh God. Fine. Gerardo knows.”
Oscar froze for a moment before saying, “Oh.”
Artuditu said, “Go on. Get it out of your system.”
“Gerardo Cantú?”
“Yes.”
“THE. Gerardo. Cantú…?”
“Yes.”
“The only working man of the night in San Nicolas? The man with a taste for dresses, but absolutely no taste? Never buys one that actually works for him? That Gerardo?” asked Oscar, his amusement beginning to show on his face.
“Yes…”
Oscar nodded, and put his arm around Artuditu, “Listen man, no matter what, I love you. I accept…”
Artuditu pushed away, “I’m not gay, man!”
Oscar’s grin widened, “It’s okay! Gerardo fucking sucks at picking dresses, but he’s a great guy! I love him too, I mean not like you do but…”
Artuditu growled, “I’m not gay!”
If Oscar had grinned any wider, he’d have split his own head in half.
“I’ve seen the vampire movies, man. Judith loves them! If you’re a vampire you pretty much have to be gay. Them’s the rules.”
“Fuck, man…”
“And how else would Gerardo know?”
Artuditu held up a hand, “Look, all the ladies were busy that night. I don’t just grab people off the street, but I was thirsty and…”
“And now you’re gay.”
“IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!” Artuditu shouted, exasperated. “All I did was drink some of…”
“His man-juice?” said another voice from the darkness.
Both men whirled toward the sound. There was Judith, carrying a tray with two plates, each laden with taquitos. Her other arm had a foldable table suspended from the crook of her elbow, and she held a flashlight. She was grinning too, though that stopped when she saw Artuditu’s face.
“Why is your face covered in blood this time?!” she chastised.
Oscar stepped toward her to take the foldable table and said, by way of explanation, “Oh, Artuditu’s gay now.”
“I might be uhhhh… a little bit bisexual… to be honest. Not gay.” Artuditu said, quietly.
Oscar stopped, “Wait, really? … good for you, man!”
Judith said, “About time you figured it out — Oscar get that table open already — but that doesn’t explain the blood. Oscar, if you hit him for being gay, when I put this food down I’ll…”
“I didn’t hit him!” Oscar protested, finally unfolding the table.
Artuditu, seeing his chance, said, “No, but you did try to shoot me!”
“OSCAR!”
“I thought he was the fucking Chupacabras!”
“You thought… wait what? No, never mind, give me a second.”
Judith carefully placed the tray on the foldable table, stood, adjusted her blouse, and said, “Okay, someone just tell me why I came out to give my husband and his best friend some taquitos… only to find one of them covered in blood. Please. Before I start hurting you both.”
Oscar looked at Artuditu, and said, “Man, you know I have to tell her.”
Artuditu nodded, “Of course.”
Oscar took the flashlight from Judith and said, “Come, mi Vida.4 Watch. Okay, do it!”
Judith saw the fangs pop out, and then back in.
“I want a closer look.” she said.
“Not you too.” groaned Artuditu.
“Don’t be a baby, just… there we go. Wow. Those are real.”
“Uhuh.” said Arturo, his speech impaired by reason of his jaw being held in place in Judith’s own iron grip.
“And the blood is from…?”
“His goats.” supplied Oscar, “He doesn’t kill people… for blood, anyway. Apparently the goat milk is fine, but I’m getting that tested.”
Judith nodded approvingly at her husband, “That seems wise.”
She let go of Artuditu’s jaw and said, “And you’re bi, too.”
It wasn’t a question.
Oscar said, “Yeah, congrats on figuring that out! Should we have a party or something?”
Artuditu groaned, “Please no.”
Judith tapped her chin, and asked, “When did you become a vampire anyway?”
“About three years ago.”
Judith said, “Ahhhh, no wonder. I thought you’d just had some work done on your face, you know?”
Artuditu shook his head.
Oscar snickered, “That little American blonde worked on his face!”
Judith’s mouth made an “o” shape as she realized what Oscar meant.
She looked at Artuditu with her hands on her hips and said, “Well that’s what you get for going after college girls you old piece of…”
“I KNOW!”
“Rabo verde!” 5
“… I know.”
TO BE CONTINUED
- “Judith” is not a common name in Mexico, but also not unheard of. The H is silent. ↩︎
- “Mija”. A portmanteau of “mi hija” which translates to “my daughter”. “Mija” and its counterpart “Mijo” are often not used literally. To Oscar’s way of thinking, this was fortunate. ↩︎
- A portmanteau of “Iluminati” and “tontos.” “Tontos” translates to “fools” in English. ↩︎
- A term of endearment; translates to “my Life.” ↩︎
- Literally “green tail.” An older man who pursues younger lovers. Derogatory. ↩︎