From his vantage point, hung upside-down from a high gutter, Leonard enjoyed a clear view of the shop's back entrance.

He stretched one leathery wing, feeling it numb after hours of waiting. He smiled, remembering how impatient he had been in the first decades after his change. So eager, so imprudent and impulsive. Centuries of non-life had taught him patience was a precious ally.

Wiser, stronger and self-sufficient, he was now quite content to observe the lives of the mortals surrounding him, amused by their worries and fears, satisfied to feed on them with moderation (unlike the blood feasts of his youth!).

For a long time that had sufficed. It had got him through the first two hundred years or so. Until his worst enemy had struck, unmerciful.

Boredom.

Initially only a mild sense of unease, it had worsened decade after decade, eventually driving him to the edge of insanity. He had found relief amongst his own kind, discovering that others shared his same enemy. Together they could find ways of fighting it back.

As the hours passed, Leonard saw workers go in and out the shop's rear door. Aunt Ruth's had been providing "fine Patisserie and Bakery goods" for over a century.

Eventually, the last shift worker left.

Leonard's wait was over. He spread his wings, glided down toward the street.

Should any observers be present in the dark alleyway, they would have seen a large bat hovering in front of a door. They would have then noticed a ripple in the air surrounding the creature. Finally, they would have doubted their senses as the bat dissolved into a cloudy, ink-colored mist, drifting through the lock, infiltrating through the gaps in the timber.

Of course, should any observers be present in the dark alleyway, they would not have survived the night.

Inside, Leonard assumed his humanoid shape, then started searching for something. His hands moved securely in the dark room, opening drawers and cabinet doors, methodically inspecting fridges and ovens.

He smiled, thinking that somewhere, in that precise moment, Zachary was similarly busy rummaging through someone else’s belongings.

Zachary and him had been changed in the in the same year. When they had met, they were both in the grip of boredom. All the symptoms were there. The apathetic, indifferent look. The lethargic speech pattern and tone. Slow, lazy movements, so much in contrast with the lithe elegance of a healthy vampire’s gestures.

“Here we are,” Leonard said aloud, a triumphant smile creasing his lips. His fingers quickly counted a few dozens of small objects hiding in a drawer. The smile vanished. “Not bad…” he thought, “… but still not enough.

The church was silent.

Crouched on the spire of the bell tower, Leonard pondered. His visits to a factory and a department store, earlier that night, had been disappointing. The factory had obviously been cleaned before his passage. It carried all the distinctive marks of one of Zachary’s visits. In the store he had not fared any better, as it was being restocked. He looked down at the church. This was going to be dangerous. Consecrated ground was deadly for those of his kind, but he was hoping to find what he needed in the sexton’s house adjoining the church. Even there, the risk of finding holy symbols was high. Then again, taking risks was a good antidote to boredom, and that was what it was all about.

In a few bounds he reached one of the house windows.

Sneaking inside, he landed on a thick carpet. “So far, so good” he thought.

“Looking for something, Leonard?” a voice called from a dark corner. He froze.

Eventually, he saw it. A thin mist slid down the side of the bookshelf, noiselessly. A ripple in the air, then the gaunt figure of Zachary took shape in front of him. The feral expression in his eyes could only mean one thing. “The sexton… did you really have to?” Leonard asked.

“He had so much blood in him… I couldn’t resist,” Zachary replied, amused. “Besides, churchgoers taste better. They have such an… unadulterated aftertaste.”

“Oh, I kept some for you, of course!” Zachary added, brightening.

“So I see,” said Leonard, smelling the precious liquid in the next room. “Celebrating something special?”

They had known each other for centuries, and all this foreplay was just theatre. Still the other carried on with his pantomime, ceremoniously stepping toward a closed door.

“Indeed. My oldest friend, my companion and ally in a desperate fight…” Zachary paused, enjoying every moment. “Allow me to present you…our nine-hundred-and-sixty-seventh Un-birthday”

In solemn fashion, he opened the door, revealing a carefully set table on which rested a large cake, decorated by countless flickering birthday candles, of all shapes and sizes. Some were sticking out from the sides of the cake, some were so close together to resemble hedgehog spikes on fire. The cake was also adorned with streams of blood forming a dark pool on the white lace tablecloth.

Leonard stepped forward, impressed in spite of himself. He clapped his hands.

“Bravo, Zachary… Bravo indeed!” he said. “Three hours still left until dawn, and not only you’ve won our little bet, finding all the birthday candles in one night before me… You also arranged them in this… tasteful tableau!” He genuinely applauded the other. “I am most impressed, my friend!”

Zachary bowed with a flourish, his victorious grin fading into a smile of false modesty.

Leonard emptied his pockets, scattering a mere few hundred candles on the floor, like a prizefighter’s coach throwing in the towel.

The two undead then exchanged a very long look.

Years, decades, centuries long.

A look of complicity, camaraderie and gratitude that no mortal could appreciate. Two damned souls surviving boredom together.

“Happy Un-birthday Zachary,” Leonard broke the silence.

“Happy Un-birthday to you, Leonard,” the other replied.

The moment over, Zachary smiled, sharp canines glinting in the candlelight. “Now, how about a taste of that saxon’s blood, while it’s still warm?”