Bat Bait

The church was a distinguished attraction in the downtown district; the type of structure so picturesque tourists snapped photos to show family and friends back home. It was an old building with old architecture, which lended to its appeal, and was the very building the rest of the town was built around. Built circa 1740, it provided refuge and fostered goodwill for lost souls. Or so the placard on the marble column at the entrance explained.

Seth must’ve read that placard a million times on his way to and from the public library he interned at. That was the thing about small towns—every community building wasn’t more than a stone’s throw away from one another; a sense of familiarity was inevitable.

This time though, on his walk home from work, he noticed a few things out of place. Nothing major, probably just supplies left over from the landscapers.

Seth chuckled to himself; he knew the layout so well he could predict when and what flowers the city landscapers planted every season—autumn meant orange and gold marigolds.

As cliche as it was, and no matter how many times he’d done it, Seth always stopped to smell the flowers. Brushing dirt off the delicate petals of an orange marigold, he inhaled sweet nature. It was refreshing after smelling books and coffee at the library all day. He smiled as he allowed himself a brief reprieve, forgetting the mountain of schoolwork awaiting him at his dorm.

To anyone taking a late night stroll, Seth probably looked weird. A young man sniffing flowers by himself in front of the old church at night sounded like the set-up to a joke. The night was beautiful, though, and so was the moonlight casted over the flowers.

The end of every month signified a full moon, but none contested October’s. It was ephemeral yet remarkable, high in the sky and magnificent as it illuminated the stained glass of the downtown church. Holy depictions looked heavenly in the bright glow, as if God herself caressed the building of worship with divine touch.

Nighttime was his favorite and kept him on his toes with mystery, yet it never caught him off guard as much as it did when a sudden, erratic motion in the patch of marigolds spooked him half to death.

“What the hell!” Seth scrambled away from the flowers and fell back.

The motion grew more erratic as it darted toward him, parting a zig-zagged path in the flower patch. What was it? Was it going to attack him?

Seth scurried back and braced himself, but the movement didn’t seem targeted. Mustering courage, he sat up to get a better glimpse. Just as he thought he’d finally made sense of things, the commotion stopped. Confused, he squinted to make out the small silhouette in the heleniums in front of him.

One last flutter of movement and the silhouette was freed from the flowers—out flopped a tiny, injured bat weak and frightened.

After the initial relief hit, Seth realized his predicament. He couldn’t just abandon an injured animal, not after it fought so hard to free itself. Poor thing, so small and weak, it must’ve been entangled in the tall stems. What injured it? He didn’t want to stick around to find out.

He pulled a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and scooped up the creature. It was lighter than he expected, not that he really ever pondered the weight of a bat, and in the moonlight he saw its wing was broken and bloody.

“Aw, what happened to you, little bat? I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Seth said, comforting the bat with gentle strokes of his thumb. “It’s cold out, but a handkerchief is all I have…” He wrapped the bat in the soft cloth, and it squeaked in what he assumed was gratitude.

Seth knew literally zero information about bat anatomy, let alone how to provide veterinary care to one that was injured. Hell, he didn’t even know how to care for a healthy bat. It wasn’t his nature not to try, though, so he cradled the bat in his palm, grabbed his backpack from the sidewalk where he fell, and continued his walk back home.

As he walked the same path he took every day, something felt off. There was a peculiar feeling in the air, but he figured it was just the full moon. He had never felt anything like it. Still, he couldn’t shake the creeping feeling of being watched, stalked almost. It sent shivers up his spine and quickened his pace. He kept his gaze straight and paid attention only to what his periphery could discern in the dark surroundings.

Over a couple hundred times Seth walked this path and not once had he ever considered encountering a supernatural. It was a full moon, an October one at that… Didn’t werewolves transform into snarling beasts at this time? Weren’t vampires rumored to be their strongest?

No, couldn’t be. It was probably just teenagers messing with him.

Seth yelled out to the night, “Find something better to do, won’t you?”

No reply; it felt like he was yelling at a void. He swallowed his nerves and kept on. Luckily his dorm wasn’t far.

The Ivy, the dormitory complex on the college campus Seth attended, was just as brightly-lit by the full moon as the old church building downtown. It was a comforting beacon in the darkness that seemed to haunt him.

Glancing down at the bat in his palm, he smiled and looked up to the window of his bedroom on the top floor of building two. A string of fairy lights lit the window from inside. He was home.

Inside, Seth dropped his backpack on the floor beside his pile of schoolwork and placed the bat on a pillow he grabbed from his bed. He shed his coat and shoes and turned on the heater before finally dealing with his situation. Problem was, he had no idea how to do that.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his blonde hair and stared at the bat. It must’ve fallen asleep on the walk home, likely using its last bit of energy getting out of the flower patch. When it was still and sleeping like this, Seth could finally appreciate how adorable it was—little ears and nose, little tufts of fur, dark-translucent wings, huge fangs…

Huge fangs. Scary, sharp fangs. Like vampire fangs?

He sighed and shook his head; now he was just acting paranoid. The creepy walk home must’ve affected him more than he thought.

Before Seth freaked himself out more, imagining the possibilities of fostering a bat that was actually a vampire, he Googled if vampires transforming into bats was a real thing. Much to his utter relief, it was not. Just another myth.

Then he fell down a rabbit hole about the unveiling of supernaturals. How years back, maybe fifteen or more, vampires came out and sent the human world into a frenzy. Bloody riots, needless violence, sensationalized media, and failed government cover-ups all complicated life as it had always been as humans rejected the notion that supernatural beings existed at all.

As years passed shock subsided, but discrimination or outright violence against supernaturals thrived in pockets of the nation while cult-like worship of them thrived in others. The general mindset, though rooted in stereotypical fear, was more tolerant. It was harder for older generations to accept, but Seth was a young child when the news hit. Naturally, he grew up to be more understanding.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit fearful, but wasn’t everybody a little fearful of the unknown?

At least knowing vampires didn’t transform into bats made him feel slightly better about the fact he had a bat sleeping in his dorm.

Seth felt that sinking feeling of being watched again. Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of motion outside his living room window. He rushed to the window but saw nothing but the bright headlights of a car through the shedding tree branches. Goodness, he was too in his head.

After ensuring the window was locked, he let the bat sleep as he left to shower. Perhaps some hot water would soothe his spooked bones.

Afterward, Seth scoured his bathroom for items to use for bat first aid. The internet said things like wooden sticks and antibacterial ointments might help, but veterinary care was the most recommended option. Of course it was, but being a broke college student meant he couldn’t afford a vet bill. If he had to fashion a makeshift splint then that was exactly what he was going to do.

When he returned to the living room, the bat was missing. His stomach flipped and he panicked. His gaze shot to the window, relieved it was still closed.

“Uh… Bat? Where are you?” Seth asked nervously.

Out of nowhere, a shrill shriek answered his call.

He whipped toward the noise by instinct, reflexively ducking as a dark blur flew at his head. The blur swooped and charged him again but with less tenacity, as if pushing through an injury.

Seth realized it was the bat.

Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he tried to think up an escape, but the bat rushed him a third time, shrieking and fluttering, persevering through its broken wing. Seth deflected the attack best he could, but he was flustered.

“Please calm down! I’m not trying to hurt you,” he called out from his defensive position as a crouched ball on the floor. “I’m sorry, you’re probably scared. I’m just trying to help you!”

As if the bat understood human language, it ceased its swooping long enough for Seth to peek out from behind his trembling hands. Heart pounding in his ears, he couldn’t hear the barely audible, high-pitched shriek as the bat lurched at him and sunk its sharp fangs into his wrist.

Seth screamed and flailed to shake it off, but it was anchored deep in his flesh. Blood pooled around its mouth and dribbled down Seth’s forearm. No matter how desperately he struggled to pry it off, it was secure; no matter how strong the faux invincibility his adrenaline gave him, the pain was evident.

First his arm went weak, then the rest of his body, and just before the sensation consumed his mind, vertigo overtook him. Whether it was the circumstance or the actual loss of blood, Seth fell unconscious on the floor.

A short distance from his body, a black mist enveloped the injured bat, lifting it off the floor in strong pulses. Each gust manipulated the bat’s shape into something taller, leaner, and bipedal.

When the dark mist settled, a pale, guant, pointy-eared vampire wiped a drop of blood from the corner of her dessicated mouth. Her arm, covered in cuts and abrasions indicative of injury, healed rapidly and scarred as if the wounds were several years old.

The vampire sighed dryly in relief, like she’d been parched for days, like she desperately needed the blood she so greedily drank to heal and regain her undead power.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” the vampire cooed, tossing a gaze to the window where a group of bats assembled amongst the leafless branches of the tree outside. She slid open the window and smirked at her coven in disguise. “Come in, my brothers and sisters, and feed on my new pet.”

The barren tree rattled with the veracity of their collective movement. The coven rushed in, stirring a whirlwind of black mist as they transformed into bloodthirsty creatures of the night in Seth’s cramped living room.

When Seth finally came to several days later, he wasn’t in his dorm. Instead, he awoke in the old church downtown with a craving for blood and new appreciation for the golden patch of marigolds.