Мишель Роуэн - Fanged & Fabulous

Bingo denied.

I tried to scramble away from him, but he grabbed my fuchsia-covered leg and pulled me back until he was completely on top of me, pinning my arms under his knees so all I could do was thrash from side to side like a wounded seal. He grabbed my face and squeezed, making my mouth open up so he could inspect my fangs. He ran a thumb over one of them.

“I usually take these from the young ones I slay. Got myself a nice necklace now.”

I sank my teeth (fangs included) into his hand as deep as I could, and he pulled away with surprise and a sudden yelp of pain.

He smacked me across the side of my face. “Shouldn’t have done that, vampire.”

“You touch me again and my boyfriend is going to rip your lungs out,” I hissed.

“Yeah?” He smirked and looked around from his position on top of me. “I don’t think I see your boyfriend anywhere. Or anyone else for that matter. It’s just you and me.”

“He’s a master vampire and he’s not a big fan of hunters. Lungs? Ripped out? Do I need to repeat myself?”

That got his attention. “A master vampire? In Toronto ? There’s only one that I’ve heard of.”

“That’s him. Do I need to mention the ripping out of lungs again?”

His raised stake lowered slightly, and his brow furrowed. “Did you say your name was Sarah?”

“So what if I did?”

“SarahDearly ?”

I struggled to get out from under him but he had me pinned too firmly. “Get off me, you bastard.”

Surprisingly, he did. As if there were wires attached to his body like a marionette, he sprang to his feet and stared at me with a deep frown while I slowly got up and brushed myself off.

“Sarah Dearly,” he repeated. “The master vampire’s girlfriend.”

I glanced at him warily. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes widened. He breathed in a deep breath of cold air and let it out slowly before he spoke again.

“Everyone knows about you.”

“Everyone?”

“The Slayer of Slayers.” He said it under his breath and took a step backward.

“The what of the what?”

“Last month . . . the massacre at the vampire lair. You killed so many hunters . . . so many . . . ” His voice trailed off and he brought a hand to his mouth.

What in the hell was he talking about?

He took another step backward and hit the thick trunk of a tall oak tree next to a park bench. “I . . . I . .

. should never have . . . ” His eyes shifted back and forth and I noticed the hand that held the stake was now shaking. “Please, spare me. That whole thing earlier, me acting all tough . . . that was just an act.

The other hunters . . . they’re so mean, and they all think I’m weak. I was just out for a hot dog and a

Coke, that’s all. Please, don’t hurt me. I was kidding about the fang necklace! Really!”

Last month, there had been a hunter/vampire showdown at the Midnight Eclipse, my boyfriend (sounds like a silly thing to call a six-hundred-year-plus-old vampire, but that’s what he was) Thierry’s secret vampire bar.

It was true that the night in question was a major deal, that a lot of people got hurt, both hunter and vampire, and that I may have . . . possibly . . .sort of . . . had to kill a hunter named Peter, jerk that he was. But that had been pure self-defense—and something I was still feeling great gobs of greasy guilt from, even though he’d majorly deserved it. And it had been with a gun, not with my bare teeth asChad seemed to indicate with the fearing-for-his-life expression on his now-sweaty face.

Now everyone knows my name?

The theme song fromCheers suddenly began to play in my head.

I took a step toward him and he fell to his knees, the stake falling to the ground. He put his hands together and began to pray in barely coherent whispers. With a trembling hand he reached inside his shirt to pull out a heavy silver cross, which he then held up to ward himself against me.

I sighed.Let’s just nip this in the bud, shall we?

I closed the remaining distance between us, reached forward, and grabbed the cross to show him that it didn’t hurt me at all. It was quite pretty, actually. And shiny. His eyes widened in fear.

Then I grabbed his shirt and pulled him up to his feet—easy to do since he was like a rag doll now—then brought him close enough that our eyeballs were only inches from each other.

“I will let you live . . .today ,” I said, calmly and dangerously. I used to aspire to become a world-famous, well-paid actress, so I just called on that questionable ability to give my words a little

“But if you or your friends come near me again, I shall bathe in your blood.”

Ew. Did I just say that? How disgusting.

But it seemed to get my point across.Chad was now the one scrambling backward, nodding like a lunatic, saying, “Yes, yes, I promise,” over and over again. Then he got shakily to his feet, and with a last look of fear—the intense kind one might have just before losing total bladder control—he turned and ran from the park like the proverbial bat out of hell.

I leaned over and picked the stake up from whereChad the Vampire Slayer had dropped it and studied it for a moment. I had to go find Thierry, tell him what had happened here, and ask him what I should do about it. If anybody would know, he would. He just wasn’t going to be too happy about it.

Slayer of Slayers, huh?

I threw the stake into a nearby garbage can.

That new little nickname wasso going to come back to bite me in the ass.

I first tried calling Thierry’s cell phone, but it immediately took me into voicemail, which was frustrating at the best of times. He wasn’t at his townhome, either. So I’d gone back to my apartment to change,

then paced back and forth impatiently until eight o’clock when I knew somebody would be at his new vampire club. It didn’t open for another hour, but some of the staff would already be there setting things up.

It had only been one week since Haven opened. I didn’t like the place as much as Midnight Eclipse.

Instead of being hidden behind the facade of a tanning salon, the entrance to Haven was a plain-looking door located along an abandoned alleyway. No bells, no whistles. Just an ugly, three-hundred-pound vampire bouncer named Angel (unfortunately, no relation or even a passing resemblance to David

Boreanaz) who sized up vamps who came a-knocking.

Typically the entrance was also monitored by Barry Jordan, the manager of the club. He was extremely short and usually dressed in a tuxedo as well as a sour and annoyed expression. The guy hated me with a passion. Can’t say I was all that thrilled with him either. Unfortunately he recently married my best friend

Amy, who seemed to like him just fine for some odd reason.

Barry had a really annoying habit of calling Thierry “the master,” which was very Renfield, and kind of creepy. And he seemed to have a big problem with those who did not refer to him that way. Namely,me

Barry wasn’t at Haven tonight. It must have been his night off.

The club was small, intimate, with dark walls, ornately carved cherry wood tables and chairs. A splash of color came from the blue and teal ceramic tiled floor, which had a swirling pattern like a whirlpool.

Actually it looked more like a flushing toilet, if you ask me. Modern chandeliers dripped from the ceiling,

filling the club with a soft, flickering light that filled me with anything but ease. I was way too stressed out by the time I got there.

“Where’s Thierry?” I blurted out as I entered the club.

George was lighting a candle on a nearby table and he looked up at me. “Do you realize how often you enter a room saying that?”

I blinked at him.

“You could come in here with a ‘Hi George, how are you doing George,’” he continued. “But,no . It’s all about Thierry.”