The latest delivery on my schedule was set to be dropped off at the annual summer food truck festival, which was located on the green in front of the Commons. Whoever planned this event always misjudged the amount of people attending. There were over a hundred food trucks crammed on a little bitty green square packed with scores of people sampling the different cuisines.
We stood on the outskirts, watching as a band played on the stage to our right and people elbowed their way to the front of the lines. Say what you'd like about Columbus, but we took our food very seriously. I'd never lived anywhere else that had the variety and number of amazing restaurants. Whatever type of cuisine you wanted, you could find it here. We were a test market for many restaurant chains and a surprising number of franchises had sprung from our little city.
Another reason my turn hadn't been welcome. It was impossible to enjoy living in a city with such a diverse culinary scene when I couldn't fully avail myself of the delights.
"It's a food truck festival," I told Nathan.
"A what?"
I sighed. He was so knowledgeable about modern American life, it was hard to believe that this was what made him show his considerable age.
I pointed at the trucks. "They cook and serve food out of their trucks. Most of these are from Columbus, but some come from different parts of the state to participate."
"Why would they want to cook out of a truck? Wouldn't it be cramped? And unsanitary?"
I shrugged. "Cramped, probably. Unsanitary, unlikely. These trucks are basically mobile kitchens with the same health requirements. The overhead is lower than a brick and mortar restaurant, and they can go to their customer base rather than waiting for it to come to them."
Plus, they charged an arm and a leg for the experience.
"Why are we here?"
I pointed at my bag. "The recipient is in one of these trucks. I need to find him and deliver the package."
"It can't wait until this," he waved at the roiling crowd, "has dispersed?"
I shook my head. "The deadline will have passed by then, and the punishment clause will kick in. I'd prefer not to be a dishwasher for the next week."
As a punishment, it wasn't so bad. Definitely not the worst one I'd faced. Still, I had better things to do than wash dishes, and I refused to have a black mark on my record for a tardy delivery.
"Just follow me and don't bite anyone." I didn't wait for a response, setting off into the crowd. The brief had said the truck would be bright yellow and have big letters spelling out The Hungry Satyr. I glanced down at the map that had the truck’s location highlighted on it. Nathan staggered out of the crowd, his brow furrowed, as he looked around him with extreme dislike.
"I think someone grabbed my butt," he said with a disgruntled frown. I stifled my smirk and kept my smart-ass comment to myself. "Let's get this over with before I have to start removing hands. Do you know where we're going?"
I folded the map and stuffed it in my pocket without looking down, as I gave him a jaunty grin. "No clue. We may have to split up to find it."
He leveled a censoring look on me. "Nice try, but where you go, I go."
I shrugged and turned on my heel, setting off to make a circuit of the main area with Nathan trailing behind me. It was slow going as the crowd pressed in on us. Most trucks had a line twenty to fifty people deep. That didn't include the gawkers trying to get a look at the menus.
The fan favorite trucks, the ones that had already built a following, had lines so long that they had to double back on themselves. One of the trucks was from a fried chicken place located in the Short North, a trendy part of the city known for its art and food. The restaurant used its truck to extend its brand, reaching those hungry people who weren't up to trekking down to the busier part of the city or contending with its horrible parking.
"These are some oddly named restaurants," Nathan said. "Who’s going to want to eat at a place called the Sticky Bun or the Cat's Meow?"
I looked at the trucks he indicated, a bright blue one with cats all over it and a pink and yellow one with what looked like donuts.
"I would, for starters. The Sticky Bun has some of the best cinnamon rolls in the city."
Hmm, cinnamon rolls. I took a step in the truck's direction only to be brought up short by Nathan's hand on my elbow.
"Nice try. You've got a job to do, remember?" Nathan said with a flat look.
I sighed. "It'd only take a minute. The line is short in front of that one."
It was true. The line was only a few people deep, not because it wasn't good but because people came here for a meal, and the Sticky Bun was known for its dessert. Later in the evening, they'd probably do good business, but for now, it was pretty slow.
"You shouldn't be eating more food—especially after your ice cream last night."
I gave him a sidelong look but didn't say anything. Guess I was right to be cautious of the companions. It hadn't taken them long to reveal what they knew to the vampires, small though that information might be.
"You haven't had any stomach pains, have you?" Nathan said, his manner nonchalant.
My shoulders tightened, and my gait hitched before smoothing out. I took us toward an offshoot section of the festival. As it had grown larger over the years, the festival's organizers had taken over adjacent areas, including a smaller green next to the main one and a parking lot across the street.
"Because if you have, it would be the first sign that your body is starting to suffer effects from your diet."
"And what other effects might arise?" I asked.
Nathan's dark eyes came to me, and his face tightened as if I'd just confirmed a suspicion of his. "Your stomach will become more intolerant of solids. You’ll develop headaches as food puts more toxins in your body. You'll have slower healing, less strength. Eventually, you won't be able to tolerate the sun, and it'll cause you extreme pain. You'll be as weak and defenseless as if you haven't consumed blood in a week."
The longest I'd ever gone without blood was thirty hours, and by the end of it, I could barely function. It was the closest I'd ever come to a rampage, and I'm not entirely convinced I wouldn't have gone on one except for the fact that I was so stinking weak I could barely lift my arms. What would a week with no blood look like for me?
I didn't respond to his explanation, turning over his words and considering each point. The stomach pains had already arrived, and they'd nearly flattened me. Yesterday's dawn had been a welcome reprieve from them. I'd have to see about the rest of his claims. Part of me wanted to discount everything he'd said. I'd been eating solids for years. Granted, never a lot and not every day, but enough that I remained suspicious of his assertions. Wouldn't these symptoms have arrived sooner if they were going to come? Why start now?
"There's the food truck," I said, leaving the topic behind for now. I'd worry about this later, when I actually suffered from the effects. For now, I had a delivery to make.
The truck had a good-sized crowd in front of it, though not quite as large as the trucks in the main court.
"The Hungry Satyr?" Nathan squinted at the sign and then made a pained grunt. "Don't tell me its manned by a satyr."