When I walked into the bar, it was surprisingly full for midday. All the other patrons turned and started at the man in the long, gray trench coat. This was not an unusual response as it was the middle of July.

Chuckling, I walked towards the bartender and chose a stool off to the side.

The bartender wandered over, wiping his hands on his apron. "Can I help you?"

I glanced up at the old clock hung crooked on the wall. "I'll take a whisky."

It was only once the bartender had moved away that I sensed the presence behind me. The barrel of a gun brushed the tips of my hair, steady.

"I knew you'd come if I was here." I chuckled once more and slowly turned around to face him. "But I thought I had a little more time before you realized."

The man before me was moderately tall and thin with dark brown hair, a loose button-up, and slacks. He smiled coolly, hand still steadily aiming at my face. "You underestimated me again, old friend."

"Sit." I patted the stool next to mine. "Have a drink with me, for old times sake."

The man seemed to consider for a moment before lowering his weapon and his body onto the stool.

The barkeep returned with my whisky and leaned on the counter, looking at the man expectantly.

"Give me whatever he's having." Now the man looked back at me. "So, James, what are you doing at my bar?"

"Business, same as you." I said, gesturing to the gun now sitting on the counter.

"Don't be like that. Just because we're not young and power-drunk anymore doesn't mean I can't make a social call. And besides," he leaned in close, "we both know those bullets can't hurt you anyway."

I laughed as memories of the old days trickled back. The heists and the late nights and the gun fights and the drunk, dreamlike stumbles through young adulthood.

The two of us ruled the grimy underworld in those days. We were invincible, until we weren't. I sighed as reality rushed back.

"I need a favor."

The man rested his arm against the bar. "What kind of favor."

"I'm in deep with one of the gambling rings up on Trinity Street." I swallowed. "Really deep."

"How much."

I pulled a folded slip of paper from the pocket on my trench coat and slid it over to him. The man opened it and his eyes widened.

"How did this happen, James?"

"You know how it is. One bad decision after another." I couldn't meet his eye.

The man forced a smile. "C'mon, it could be worse. Here." He retrieved a plastic baggie from his pocket. "The missus sends her regards."

There were two brownies in the bag and I gladly took them. "Carla always was great in the kitchen."

The bartender returned with the man's drink and he raised it for a toast. "To the good old days."

I clinked mine with his and took a large swig. After I swallowed, I tilted my head.

"Is everything okay?" The man set down his drink.

I growled. "Get that bartender back over here."

The man raised his eyebrows but called him back. The bartender stood, arms crossed, teeth clenched.

"Did you put garlic in my whiskey?"

The bartender spit. "Your kind don't belong here with the living."

I laughed. "Do you believe everything you hear about vampires?"

The bartender started to look nervous, even more so when I downed the rest of my drink in one go.

I let my fangs show and my eyes go red. "I'll let you go with a warning this time, but if you come back here with a stake I'll have to hurt you."

The bartender nodded and slowly backed away, disappearing into the kitchen.

I laughed and turned to the man "Did you really hire that guy?"

"My apologies."

I pulled out a brownie and popped it in my mouth in an attempt to get rid of the garlic aftertaste. As soon as I swallowed I knew something was wrong.

Just under the garlic and chocolate, I could taste it.

Peanut butter.

I frantically searched through my pockets for my Epi-pen. It wasn't there. I checked again, fighting back panic as I began to wheeze. Desperate, I looked up.

The man was staring at me. Eyes cold. Watching as my face began to swell.

"Looking for this?" He held out my Epi-pen, dangling it just out of arms' reach.

I lunged for it but the man nimbly stepped back, letting me fall off the stool and onto the filthy floor.

I managed to croak out "Why?" before my airways closed.

The man crouched down to look me in the eye. "It's just business." He rose and gently placed the Epi-pen on the counter. "Same as you."

The last thing I saw before my vision went dark was my old friend dissolving into gray dust as he slipped out the door.

And then, nothing.