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Jason Petrah lay prostrate in the grime outside a downtown bar, feeling very sorry for himself.
Nine hours had passed since he’d gotten attacked, and Jason had spent the last six of them drinking steadily. His wallet was pathetically empty as a result of all the increasingly desperate types of alcohol he’d consumed. He hadn’t been kicked out or anything—no, Jason had left the bar perfectly politely and then proceeded to lie spread eagle in the closest ally he could find, woefully sober.
He couldn’t get drunk anymore. It was terrible.
Okay, sure, Jason didn’t really like drinking anyway, but it was the principle of the thing. He hadn’t gotten properly tipsy since before he started his grad thesis, but he could very much remember being drunk.
So that was another change of the last nine hours. The others included, in no particular order: squinting at desk lights, feeling a little more like shit than usual, having no fucking heartbeat, and the edges of his fingers sharpening and whitening to fade into the dark skin of his hands.
Yeah, weird.
And the guy who’d attacked him had taken his earrings. What kind of asshole grabs a tired student, steals the only things he’s ever splurged on, and then bites him when he tries to grab them back? Honestly. Those earrings had been real onyx.
Jason huffed a sigh into the ally cobbles, his nose mashed up against his cracked glasses. He didn’t know what to do. Lying in the cold and moping seemed like a perfectly reasonable option.
Someone nudged him in the side.
“Go’way,” Jason huffed, not raising his head.
“I see you’re taking the change well,” said a deep, amused voice. “Get up. I have some questions for you.”
Jason lifted one arm and looked tiredly under it. A tall, unreasonably beautiful individual was standing over him, a deep red garment draping down to their ankles and a scarred hand extended toward Jason. Their eyes glittered in the low light.
Hurriedly, Jason sat up. He stuffed his wallet into his pocket with his whitened fingers, not quite able to keep himself from growing flustered.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Doctor Stephen Strange,” said the figure. They retracted their hand as Jason stood, tucking it into the folds of their cape. The red fabric shifted of its own accord to pat their wrist.
Jason had an economics degree. He wasn’t cut out for this shit.
“Are you with the guy? The one who attacked me?” Jason ran his hand through his hair exhaustedly. “Come back to finish me off?”
The Strange person scoffed. “Me? Working with Igrum? Absolutely not.”
Jason frowned, his hand stilling in his hair. “You… know him?”
“I’m trying to arrest him, to be technical,” Strange said. “Igrum has violated his dimensional visa enough times that I swear he’s playing bingo or something.”
“What?”
“Just come with me.”
Strange stepped back, swiping their hand through the air. A trail of light streamed from it, as if they was holding a sparkler, until the end caught up to Strange’s hand and snapped together. Jason could see a scene through it. A comfortable room, large and dimly lit from the night outside, with a mosaic floor and a warm fireplace.
Strange stepped forward and turned to beckon Jason through the portal. Jason wondered if he was having some sort of hallucinatory episode. But what else could he do? Go back to his apartment and work on his thesis?
Jason stepped through the portal.
It closed behind him, and Jason tried to take in a breath of shock but found he couldn’t. He massaged his throat instead, running his tongue across his elongated teeth.
Strange strode across the room, the mosaic tiles flickering and changing cheerfully beneath their feet. The cape lifted off their shoulders to zip around the sprawling room. Strange kicked off their shoes—which disappeared and reappeared next to a set in a different size already by the door—and sank into a chair by the fireplace.
They raised a hand to Jason. In it was a teacup.
“Apparently I don’t digest things anymore,” Jason found himself saying. “So. Uh. No need to waste that on me.”
Strange didn’t lower their hand. “It’s from Mandelibus. The dimension you’re now an honorary resident of. It will make you feel better.”
Jason moved suspiciously to the other chair, reaching out to accept the tea. Strange was right; it had a smooth, rich taste and it really did make Jason feel better.
“So,” Strange said when Jason had finished. They steepled long, elegant fingers beneath their chin. “Congratulations.”
Jason was certain that if he had blood, it would all be in his face. “On what?” he managed. “Pretty damn sure I got bit by a vampire earlier tonight.”
Strange didn’t contradict him. “Have you tried the garlic and crosses yet?”
Jason blinked. “Was I supposed to?”
Leaning back in their chair, Strange waved their hand, and Jason’s teacup refilled. “The garlic thing is bullshit for your particular class of vampire. Crosses will make you a little queasy, though.”
“... Oh,” Jason said, staring at his teacup. His lightened fingers and their clawed ends tapped against the china. “Glad to know I can still get pizza even if I can’t get drunk. And I’m gay from a very conservative family: crosses already make me queasy.”
That drew a snort of laughter from Strange, which made their face seem younger. “Fair enough. Now, it’s a serious breach of regulation for Igrum to turn you—but he’s a slippery bastard. I’ve been after him for months now. Is there anything you can tell me about him? Where he was when he attacked you, what he did?”
Jason’s head spun a little. He took another sip of tea to clear it. “Um, well. I was on my way to the bus stop, and I took my usual shortcut. The guy just came out of nowhere. He stole my earrings, and when I tried to get them back, he bit my hand.”
Strange leaned forward. “Earrings? Describe them.”
“Um.” Jason looked away from the intense eyes on him. “They’re light chains? Onyx.”
Strange blinked. It looked like something slotted together behind their eyes, some realization Jason didn’t understand.
“Oh, of course,” Strange said. “I can use the Asteonomia Nova to follow the ley signatures of Igrun’s geomystical footprint.”
“I’m sorry what.”
Strange waved a dismissive hand, collecting themselves. “You’ve been very helpful, is all. But I do have to tell you the rules.”
Jason frowned. “Rules?”
“Vampirism is unfortunately irreversible,” Strange said, and they did sound genuinely apologetic. “So even despite your unwilling change, you are still held to the same laws. You are not permitted to turn humans, nor are you permitted to drain them. With explicit consent, you may drink their blood, but know if there is any doubt, I will interrogate both parties. And that's honestly awkward for all of us, so just don't."
Strange waved a hand, and a card appeared in Jason's palm. “For general use, you can get meals at any of these addresses. My colleagues provide excellent quality blood, from exotic dimensions if you so wish, completely free of charge. If you find another source for your meals, you may register it at any of those locations as well.”
Jason glanced down at the card, turning it over. It had a list of addresses on it, and as Jason thought of his home city, the addresses changed to streets he recognized.
“Wait,” Jason said, staring at the words. “I have to do the whole… drinking blood thing?”
“You’ll get used to it.” Strange gave him an encouraging grin. “You are also forbidden from running for public office or committing human crimes; I have no governmental power whatsoever, but Tony will definitely find some way to get you arrested for me. So, no abusing your immortality.”
“I’m immortal?”
“Functionally so,” Strange said. “I’m sure you’ll have a better experience with it than I have.”
“You’re… you’re immortal.”
Strange’s eyes turned just a little haunted, and Jason was suddenly very aware of the power in this room. Quietly, the magician said, “it depends on your definition.”
Jason dropped the subject. “Am I, uh, allowed to tell people? About the whole vampire thing.”
Strange shook themselves and refocused on Jason. “You aren’t expressly forbidden from it,” they said, “but I don’t recommend it. Being different can be dangerous, painful, as you already know. Keep yourself safe. However, you are expressly forbidden from mentioning me. Or any of my colleagues.”
Jason gave a nervous smile. “So, what, you’re like some kind of secret monster help center?”
“When I’m not protecting the multiverse on weekends.”
Strange sounded completely serious. The ridiculousness of it, the utter unreality of sitting here, drinking tea that Jason was certain was bloodied while a beautiful magic doctor told him about the rules of being a vampire, struck Jason hard. His shoulders shook. It was silent for a moment, and then the laughter spilled out of him, hysterical and as breathless as his lungs would always be.
“I guess I’ll have all the time in the world to finish my thesis, then,” he said.
Strange grinned and knocked their thermos against Jason's teacup in a mock toast. “I’ll drink to that,” they said. “And I’ll give you a tip. Vampirism 101.”
“What?”
“Start an antique business and in a century or so you'll be set. And for the love of god, don’t keep onyx.”