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Somali Vampire Lifestyle

Vampire politics, I thought to myself with disgust as I looked at my would-be executioner, Cain Tremblay. The tall, red-haired and alabaster-skinned vampire whom I've known for ages lay on the ground, bleeding and spent but not quite dead. Not just yet. We were in Ottawa's Vanier Parkway, right by the water, on a quiet summer night. Looking at me with a feral gleam in his eyes, Cain Tremblay bared his fangs.]

"You can kill me, you sick bitch, but I promise you'll be dead, my brothers will soon catch up with you," Cain Tremblay said defiantly, and I paused and smiled. I've got to give it to my fellow vamps, none of us likes to go down easy. If you were given the potential to live forever, you'd fight like hell to prevent that life from ending, I'm sure. All good things do come to an end, though.

"Goodbye old boy," I said, as I brought down my sword, and separated Cain Tremblay's head from his shoulders. A sad end to his 300-year-old existence, to be sure, but hey, better him than me. I waited for Cain's body to turn into a fine pile of dust, and then walked away. Another one bites the dust, I thought, as I took to the air, and vanished into the night.

My name is Khadija Hawar, and I'm a gal in a heap of trouble. Anyone looking at me would see a five-foot-ten, curvy young woman with light brown skin and long black hair. I was born in the City of Calgary, Alberta, to a Somali immigrant father and a white Canadian mother. November 8, 1978, that's when I first saw the light of day. I moved to Ottawa, Ontario, in September 1994 to study business at the University of Ottawa. I graduated in June 1998. On July 4, 1999, I died, and was reborn as a vampire. Life has been pure hell ever since.

Forget everything you think you know, the life of a vampire is nothing like what you might have seen on Buffy, Blade or True Blood. For the most part, Vampire life is boring. There are only a few tens of thousands of us scattered around the globe, and for some reason North America has the largest concentration of our kind. That, my friends, is causing problems.

In the movies, vampires stick together in little bands of lovers and friends, and life is one big party. In real life, we're solitary creatures. We see each other as competition, and tend to steer clear of one another. There are very few rules in the vampire community, beyond the fact that mortals aren't supposed to know about us. I killed Ismail Kader, the ancient Somali vampire master who brought me into the life of the undead. For this deed, I am considered a pariah in vampire society.

I had to kill Ismail Kader, seriously. The old creep turned me into a vampire against my will and thought he'd use me as a sex slave. Thanks but no thanks. In mortal life, I lived under the constraints of Islam. When I became an immortal, I swore to myself that I would be my own mistress, and have no master. Ismail Kader had to go. The problem is that the old fucker had about a thousand friends in vampire circles, and many of them swore to destroy me.

In the movies, vampires possess amazing abilities, and I might as well separate fact from fiction for you mortals. I am superhumanly strong, but nothing like that dude in Smallville. I could probably kick your ass and your buddies too, but I can't lift a car or punch through a cement wall. Actually, I haven't tried that. Maybe I can't, and maybe I can't, but I am not anxious to find out.

I recover quickly from injuries, and indeed I will heal from the kind of wound that would kill a normal human, but I am not Wolverine. I try to avoid danger as much as I can because, well, I don't like pain. I have ultra-sharp senses of sight, smell and hearing. The rest of my senses are as dull as yours. I possess levels of stamina far superior to an Olympic athlete's, but I do have my limitations.

Ladies and gentlemen, I may not be alive in the technical sense but I am definitely not a machine. I don't need air to breathe, since I am technically dead. I am a nocturnal creature and sunlight will set me on fire. That myth is true. I cannot fly but I can glide, like a bat, through the air. I can only do it for short periods of time. I am not Superman. If I spend seventy two hours without drinking blood, I can fall into a coma. After six days without blood, my body will start feeding on itself. Seven days without blood and I die, just like that.

"Khadija, where in hell were you? We've got deliveries to make," said a shrill, annoying voice belonging to Mariam Khan, a plump and matronly South Asian woman wearing an apron. Moments before, I dropped out of the sky and landed in the parking lot of Khan's Deli, a family-owned restaurant specializing in choice meats.

"Traffic was bloody murder," I said to Mariam, who grunted and said nothing. I smiled at her and hurried to the kitchen. One of the pluses of working for a restaurant like this one? I am a go between for this restaurant and the local butchers, and as such, I have access to lots and lots of blood. I drink animal blood, not that of humans.

How about that? A vampire who doesn't feed on humans. I bet you like me alright. There's a reason for that. One? I am smarter than other vampires and know that feeding on humans will attract attention to myself and eventually lead to my destruction. I fly way below the radar, literally and figuratively, that's why I manage to stay undetected.

"The boss lady nearly blew a gasket tonight," said a deep, familiar voice. I was in the middle of chopping up some meat for a special order when one of my co-workers interrupted my flow. I looked up to see Gary Jean-Charles, a six-foot-tall, dark-skinned and burly young Haitian man, smiling at me while slicing a goat's thigh bone with a cutlass. The brother is studying culinary arts at Algonquin College. His hobbies include reading Comic books, cooking and hitting on Somali girls.

"I had a good reason for being late, Gary," I said with a smile, and Gary shrugged and shook his head. I turned around and resumed chopping up the meat, though I could feel Gary's inquisitive and oftentimes lustful gaze on me. No need for a vampire's preternatural senses to detect that my co-worker here has the hots for me. Gary is cute, and when I was alive, I had a thing for burly, dark-skinned dudes, but not anymore.

These days, I live like a monk, and not by choice. Bad things happen when vampires hook up with humans. It never ends well. I like Gary, and prefer him alive. That's why I refuse to give the Haitian stud some of my Somali goodies. Besides, it's been so damn long since I had sex, I hardly remember how it's done. I wasn't exactly the most social female when I was alive.

Nope, I was a good Muslim sister who shunned the lads and went to school, work and the mosque. Now that I'm a vampire, I no longer go to the mosque or school, but I still shun the lads. Gary here thinks I'm not into him because he's Christian and I'm a Muslim. Well, I was raised Muslim but as a vampire, I am seen as an abomination by most religions, so I no longer practice any.

"You know, I've started reading your people's holy book and it's interesting," Gary said, and I smiled nervously. The other day, Gary brought a copy of the Koran to work, the last thing I imagined seeing him carry with him since he's a church-going Haitian. When Gary showed me the holy book, I shrank from him. You see, holy books such as the Bible, the Torah and the Koran repel my kind. Gary took it the wrong way.

"I'm sure it makes for wonderful reading," I replied carefully, and Gary smiled. Seriously, the dude is remarkably persistent. I just hope it doesn't get him killed someday. Three days ago, while I was waiting for the OC Transpo bus at the stop, I ran into a couple of my kind, and the fools came at me, while Gary happened to be nearby.

"If it isn't the traitor," said a tall, pale-skinned and blonde-haired female vampire whom I recognized as Debra. I know most of the local vampires, on account of Ottawa having less than three hundred of us. Debra used to be a Skinhead groupie before she became one of the undead. The blonde bitch was a racist in mortal life and kept her bad habits as one of the undead.

"Back off Debra," I said in a warning tone, and Debra snapped her fingers and a tall, bald-headed and green-eyed white male vampire dressed like a Biker seemingly materialized in front of me. The brute stared at me nastily, and turned to look at Debra, who smiled.

"Get the bitch, Marcus!" Debra ordered, and Marcus the vampire came at me. We tussled for a bit, and I was losing badly until a very familiar someone intervened. Gary Jean-Charles, my favorite co-worker, slammed into Marcus like a linebacker. I watched as Marcus fell to the side, stunned. Wow, Gary was tougher than I thought he was, seriously.

I clocked Debra a good one before Marcus could get up, and then I grabbed Gary's hand and dragged him away. We took off, running, and luckily we were able to catch the bus a few blocks away before Marcus and Debra could catch up with us. I told Gary that Marcus and Debra were Skinheads, and he bought that explanation. I couldn't tell him they were undead Skinheads.

"You are a unique woman with a lot of secrets and some enemies, that's for sure," Gary said, as he dropped the cutlass, and moved dangerously close to me. I looked at Gary, and sighed. Standing this close to me, Gary smelled of sweat, and cheap perfume, probably Axe body spray, but he also smelled of the most delicious odor I knew. Man's flesh smells wonderful to vampires because humans are our prey. I've sworn never to feed on a human...

"You got no idea," I said, smiling faintly, and try as I might, I couldn't make myself budge. You see, a vampire's hunger is quite powerful. I drink animal blood, which I can survive on, but to a vampire, it's the equivalent of bread and water. Human blood is like champagne and caviar all rolled into one for we the undead. Gary came closer, and to me, he was like a walking meal...

"You're so beautiful," Gary said, totally violating my personal space, and taking my face into his hands. This close, I could hear Gary's heartbeat. His flesh smelled delicious, like hotcakes, and the warm, red blood pumping throughout his body smelled like nectar to me. I looked at him...hungrily. And the fool mistook it for something else.

Gary pulled me into his arms and brought his face closer to mine. My vampire's instincts directed my gaze to his throat, and my lips peeled back from my lips, and I felt my fangs emerge. No, I told myself, and instead of sinking my fangs into Gary's neck, I kissed him on the lips. Voraciously. As if I were trying to suck the life out of him.

"Whoa, you're a fiery one," Gary said, a few moments later, after I shoved him off of me. I looked him up and down, shook my head, and then walked away. Foolishly, Gary followed me. I needed to get some fresh air, to get out of this kitchen which reeked of animal blood and sweaty humans. Basically, I needed to clear my head before I did something unspeakable.

"Gary, I like you, I do, but can you back off a bit, please," I said pleadingly as I sat on a bench near the parking lot. This spot is used by our smoking co-workers during their freaks. I could smell their leftover cigarettes, and plenty of other things, like the squirrel who rummaged through the nearby dumpster just a couple of hours ago. Perks of being a vampire, I guess.

"I am sorry for coming on too strong," Gary said evenly as he stood some distance from me. The big guy slumped his shoulders, and I noticed a crestfallen look on his dark, handsome face. I looked at Gary and said nothing. After a few moments, Gary mumbled an apology and walked away. Shaking my head, I got up and followed him. I figured I owed him an explanation.

"Look, Gary, we're from different worlds, you and I can't work," I said, as Gary and I stood by the restaurant's backdoor, with the pale light of the moon glowering down on us. Gary looked at me and shook his head, and then the Haitian brother said the last thing I'd expect. Seriously, if my heart still beat, it would have stopped.

"You vampire chicks are a problematic and moody bunch," Gary said, and as I gasped, his eyes seemed to glow with an inner light, there was a yellowish glow to them, and when he smiled, I noticed that his teeth were much sharper than before. Instinctively, I took a step back. Suddenly, Gary didn't smell like human sweat, and Axe Deodorant body spray. Nope, he smelled...dog-like.

"What are you?" I asked cautiously, and I allowed my face to contort and morph into a vampire's visage. Pale, gaunt face, sunken red eyes and fangs, the face of the ultimate predator. None of that seemed to faze Gary in the least, and in the pale moonlight, I noticed that he was growing hairier.

"Mademoiselle Khadija, I am a Loup Garou, or a werewolf, as they say in English," Gary said with a smile. When those words left Gary's lips, I was stunned. Seriously. I knew there were other creatures and monsters out there beside us vampires, but I never thought I'd actually see one. Let alone have one as my annoyingly flirtatious and at times charming co-worker. Gary shrugged, and in a flash, his hairy body and yellow eyes were replaced by his mundane human aspect.

"Damn, I knew there was something different about you," I said, laughing, and I resumed my human façade. Gary smiled at me and held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation, I shook it. We were still smiling at each other when Mariam Khan, the Pakistani restaurateur from hell came out of the kitchen and scolded us.

"Gary, Khadija, please stop making goo-goo eyes at each other, we've got orders to fill," Mariam Khan said, and then she stomped her way back to the kitchen. Gary and I exchanged a smile, and then returned to work. A couple of hours later, we were done, and waiting at the bus stop for the last bus. After waiting ten minutes, we decided to walk, since the bus never came. That's OC Transpo for you.

"Damn, lady, if I knew you'd be so chill with it, I would have told you sooner," Gary said, as we walked through Vanier. Typically, walking around Vanier at night is ill-advised because it's supposedly a crime-laden area of Ottawa, but I have always found the place peaceful and diverse. Lots of Arabs, Somalis and Haitians around, and I find this immigrant-fortress to be livelier and friendlier than the rest of Ottawa.

"Well, it's nice to meet someone truly unique," I replied, and I smiled at Gary, who winked at me. Seriously, I had no idea that werewolves existed, and I had a million questions for Gary. Fortunately, my co-worker was quite willing to answer my questions. I found his openness wonderful. We vampires tend to be so antisocial, and it sucks.

"There are a few of us Loup Garou around, mostly in the Caribbean and parts of Africa and Latin America," Gary said, and he told me about his life in rural Haiti, where he was born. Apparently, in the small town of Quartier Morin, where Gary was born, werewolves constituted a significant portion of the population. They formed large clans, banding together for survival and hiding in plain sight.

"That's amazing," I told Gary, who smiled. We had walked down the end of Donald Street, and were on Saint Laurent Boulevard. We walked toward the Saint Laurent Mall, intent on catching the late-night buses. Gary once told me he lived near Billings Bridge Mall, while I live in Kanata and needed to take the 96 Stitsville bus. I live far from my work place, and that's why I hate this town's unreliable buses with a passion.

Tonight, though, I didn't mind the wait. Upon reaching the terminal, I sat there with Gary, a short distance from the humans, and we talked. Tonight was turning out quite different from I thought it would turn out to be, that's for sure. I almost got killed by an ancient vampire, but I miraculously prevailed and defeated my enemy. Oh, and my flirtatious co-worker, who once came to my rescue, turned out to be a werewolf. How was your day?

I told Gary about myself, from my unwilling transformation into a vampire over a decade go, to my parting of ways with my vampire master, my refusal to feed on humans and my current troubles with the vampire community. I hadn't had anyone to confide in, for quite a while, and Gary listened carefully and patiently as I, well, unburdened myself. This brother is alright, I thought. Not bad-looking either.

"In this life, we make our own way, whether mortal or inhuman, I'm glad you respect humanity, Khadija, because I am fond of them as well," Gary said, and he gently laid his hand on mine. I looked at Gary and smiled gratefully. This burly Haitian brother ( and apparent werewolf ) was full of surprises. Thoughtful too, I noticed.

"Well, that's my bus, I shall see you tomorrow night, mon amie, be safe," Gary said, smiling at me as the number five bus bound for Billings Bridge. I stood there, and looked at Gary, as the mortals all around us walked toward their buses. I sniffed the air, and inhaled Gary's scent, smelling the mortal he appeared to be, while loving the fact that, like me, he was also inhuman.

"Well, Gary, thanks for a wonderful night," I said, and impulsively I grabbed Gary, and planted a cold kiss on his full, warm lips. Though shocked, Gary nevertheless kissed me back. To really shine Gary on, I slapped his ass. You should have seen the look of surprise on Gary's face when I finally let him go. Around us, a few mortals chuckled.

"Um, well, that was something," Gary said, and he looked at me and smiled. I returned his smile, shook my head and pointed to the number five bus, which was filling up rapidly. Gary shook his head, bit his lip and then oh-so reluctantly boarded the bus. I waved Gary goodnight as his bus pulled away from the terminal, bound for the other side of Ottawa.

"Goodnight," I said, and I found myself smiling and gushing like a schoolgirl. A few of the other women waiting at the bus terminal smiled at me, having seen my recent, ahem, interaction with Gary. Seriously, I was still smiling when the 96 Stitsville bus pulled in, and I boarded, after scanning my bright green Presto card into the machine, and the driver, a middle-aged white dude, flashed me a fake smile. Homeward bound, I thought to myself as the bus began its long trek towards distant Kanata, where I live.

I, Khadija Hawar, am a vampire living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. My life is fairly complicated these days. I've got every vampire in Ontario gunning for me and on top of that, I have a bitch for a boss and a dead-end job I cannot afford to quit. Still, tonight, I made a friend, one with the potential to perhaps become more. Much more.

As a rule, I am a solitary type of gal. I don't do mortals and vampires, male or female, hate my guts. Maybe a hunky werewolf is just what I need to get me through the night. I can't wait to come to work tomorrow night, and chill with Gary. If he plays his cards right, the Haitian werewolf is going to see lots of me in the near future, and not just at work. I haven't had a man in my life or in my bed for a long, long time. Undead or mortal, a gal's got her needs. Wish me luck.

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