“Fang-tastic
Smiles”
By Laszlo Belarski
Leonard sat, nervously looking in the mirror of the waiting
room. In the exact spot where his reflection should have been, an empty chair
stared back at him, as usual.
He allowed his gaze to wander from the mirror to the coffee
table in front of him, a baroque affair covered in thick velvet cloth. The
neatly arranged reading materials betrayed the nature of the room. ‘American
Dentists Association Journal’ next to Bram Stoker, ‘Healthy Smile’ side by side
with Matheson and Anne Rice. Leonard smirked at the naivety of the choice of
titles.
A sharp pain in his mouth made him frown, bringing him back
to his predicament- to the bitter irony of an immortal being cursed by
toothache like any layman.
“Fang-tastic
Smiles Dental Clinic,” the Secretary said, answering a call in a singing
tone. “Stacey speaking. How may I help you?” The girl was heavily made up,
black lipstick and nail polish against white-powdered face, in a not-so-subtle
attempt to appeal to the clients.
“No Sir, Doctor Gutierrez is with a patient.”
The headset she wore was in striking contrast with her
neo-Victorian attire. Leonard knew that the high collar of the dress was for
protection. Her bored expression was highlighted by the two candles on her
desk, the only illumination in the room.
“The first available slot is next Tuesday at 2am. No, Sir,
nothing today before dawn.”
The door of the dentist’s studio opened. A gaunt man
holding a handkerchief against his cheek walked out, visibly in pain. He was
followed by the rotund figure of Doctor Gutierrez, a short, plump man in his
fifties, sporting an old-fashioned Clark Gable moustache. The dentist spoke
with a heavy Hispanic accent. “-Just refrain from biting for a couple of
nights,” he was saying, “we’ll have another look in two weeks.”
He escorted the gaunt man to the door adding, “and don’t
forget to brush your fangs after each meal.”
The Secretary caught the dentist’s attention.
“It’s Baron Valentic on the line, Doctor,” she whispered,
covering the headset microphone with her fingers. “He’s jumping up and down
demanding an appointment for tonight at 4 am.”
The doctor shook his head dismissively, annoyed. As he
noticed Leonard in the waiting area, he brightened.
“Señor Leonard!” he took his hand jovially. “I do
apologize,” he said tilting his head toward the Secretary, “these European
nobles are the worst. They think they can command anyone as they did their
Gypsies!” he chuckled. “This way, please.”
Leonard followed the dentist into his wood-panelled studio,
dimly lit by candlelight. Closing the oak door behind them, Doctor Gutierrez
fastened a neck protector around his throat.
“So, Señor Leonard, how are your lovely Brides?”
“Very well. Still looking as young as two centuries ago,”
Leonard replied, forcing himself to be courteous.
“You are many times lucky, my friend. Please, take a seat.”
Leonard sat in the ornate solid wood dentist chair, specially
designed to resemble a coffin, complete with velvet-padded armrests and
cushions.
The Clinic, founded by Gutierrez’ Grandfather almost a
century before, was the only establishment to specialize in Vampire dental
care. They opened exclusively at night, and had perfected their trade to the
finest details.
Leonard remembered the first Doctor Gutierrez; a real
gentleman, as mortals went. Leonard disliked the current owner, finding him
vulgar. The new name of the Clinic was his idea. Tasteless.
“Now, if you would be so kind-,” Gutierrez said.
Leonard put on the thick sunglasses the dentist handed him.
Doctor Gutierrez reclined the chair, then pulled a mechanical arm, so that the
shielded lamp at its extremity cast a bluish light carefully focused on
Leonard’s mouth.
“Let’s have a look,” he said, adjusting the saliva
extractor at the corner of the Vampire’s lower lip. He then reached for a small
Petri dish containing a few drops of blood.
He held the dish under Leonard’s nostrils for a moment. The
Vampire felt the ancient instinct awakening at the smell. As the retractile
fangs extended, Gutierrez removed the dish. Leonard couldn’t refrain a faint
hiss.
“Mmmm, just as I suspected. This one’s got a cavity.
They’re getting more and more frequent, these days,” the dentist said,
pompously. “It’s all the sugar and junk food in the victims’ blood.”
Leonard felt edgy, as he always did when Gutierrez’ gloved
hands were in his mouth. He disliked the whole experience; it made him feel
helpless. Humans should only be allowed near him whenever he cared to feed upon
them. This was unnatural, artificial. He hated the theatrical velvet curtains,
the intentionally creaking doors, the ominous organ music playing softly in the
background.
But more than anything, he hated the dentist.
“Ouch!” Leonard snapped in pain, instinctively biting.
Gutierrez was quick to withdraw his hands, a wily smile creasing his lips.
“Whoa, careful Señor! You could hurt someone with those
fangs,” he joked.
Leonard felt his pupils grow larger, and closed his eyes to
calm himself down. He had imagined many times how satisfactory it would be to
feed on the podgy dentist. Even now, against the dark of his eyelids, he could
see Gutierrez pinned against a wall in his mighty grip, his short legs kicking
the air; he would feed on him savagely, allowing the man’s blood to rain
liberally on the white smock, the dentist’s smug look finally replaced by
terror…
The cold touch of the drill brought him back. The dentist
was very close, his cheap Cologne offending Leonard’s smell. There was an
undeniable glint of sadism in the dentist’s eyes, as he casually drilled his
way around the cavity.
Doctor Gutierrez knew he was indispensable to Vampires, and
exploited his immunity to the full, taking a few extra liberties to satisfy his
Ego. He felt as invulnerable as his patients felt impotent.
“This will only take a few minutes, Señor.” His tone,
intended to be soothing, had a sinister connotation.
Leonard closed his eyes again, to shut down the sight of
the throbbing veins under the dentist’s skin, transparent as an Anatomy
illustration to his senses.
Although Leonard was centuries old, the ‘few minutes, Señor,’ seemed to last
an eternity.
* * *
When it was over, Doctor Gutierrez stepped back from him,
unhurriedly.
“That should do it,” he said, then before Leonard could
relax he added, “oh, just one little
thing.” He leaned in again, grinning. This was a typical example of the
dentist’s mind games. Leonard found them infuriating.
“If you could please shift to your Wolf shape, for me-,” he
asked.
With a frustrated growl, Leonard complied.
“Perrrrfect,”
said Gutierrez rolling his ‘Rs’, sounding like a dog owner rewarding a good
trick. “Yes, the filling will hold.”
Gutierrez intentionally turned his back on him, removing
his gloves and neck protection.
Leonard had to repress the wild urge to jump on the man’s
vulnerable back, an urge made even wilder by his Wolf instincts. He forced himself to shape-shift back
to humanoid form, his nostrils frantically inhaling.
Gutierrez faced him again with a knowing look, grinning.
“You have been very patient as
usual, Señor Leonard,” he said, helping him out of the wooden chair and handing
him a handkerchief, “it is always a pleasure to work with you.”
Gutierrez accompanied him to the waiting room, then shook
his hand. “Please, do send my regards to the lovely Brides.”
Before disappearing behind his studio door again, Doctor
Gutierrez halted.
“Oh, Stacey?” he called to his Secretary. “Special
treatment for Señor Leonard, darling. Make it fifteen thousand only.” The dentist winked, then closed the
door.
* * *
After paying the bill to Stacey, Leonard walked out in the
chilly night air, fuming.
“Bloodsucker,”
he hissed, jumping on the first passer-by to release his anger.
END
© Copyright Laszlo
Belarski 2005