Мишель Роуэн - Bitten & Smitten

“Here I am, you one-eyed bastard.”

“Come a little closer. Don’t be shy.” Peter stared down at me, and raging fires burned beneath the furious gaze of that one good eye. He was going to kill me. For what I’d done to him in self-defense.

I hesitated. After all, I didn’t want to die. Maybe I was all talk, no action. Come to think of it, that’s what they used to say about me in high school. But I didn’t want anyone else to die tonight, either. What was up with these hunters? Didn’t they realize what they were doing was wrong? We weren’t evil. We weren’t monsters. But that’s how they saw us. A breath caught in my chest. They saw us as evil, bloodsucking monsters that needed to be exterminated like insects.

That was it. That was the answer. I tried to make my voice as calm as I could. “You can have me, Peter. Do what you want to me. But could I say a few last words to everyone first?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“A condemned person on death row gets to say their last words. They also get a last meal, but I’m not hungry. All I want is my moment in the spotlight. Come on, be a sport.”

He studied me for a moment, men sneered. “Sure, why not? Go ahead, darlin‘. Say your fill. After that, you’re all mine.”

The smile he gave me then was full of the promise of all the horrible things he’d do to me if this didn’t work. I suddenly wished for a Plan B. You can never be too prepared. I stepped onto the stage. He released Amy after giving her a last disgusting lick up the side of her face and pushed her hard out into the audience. A few people caught her so she didn’t get hurt or land on top of the dead singer. Peter’s smile widened as he moved away from the microphone, waving his hand at it to indicate it was all mine. I was now close enough to him that if he’d wanted to reach out and snap my neck, he could have easily. But he’d promised to let me have my say. I guess he was a man of his word, even if that word was “asshole.” He sheathed his stake and crossed his arms.

I tapped the microphone. The lights were painfully bright up there, and the faces in the audience were darkened now, but I could tell I had everyone’s undivided attention. At the back of the club I could see two more hunters guarding the black door so no one could escape. That made, I counted in my head, twelve hunters in total. I looked over to Thierry and Quinn. George had stood up next to them so he could see me better. They all watched helplessly. They had no idea what I was going to do, other than get myself killed.

“Hi, everyone,” I said into the microphone. “I don’t have much to say. I know Peter here’s in a big hurry. Men, you know. The thing is, he’s just doing what he thinks is right by killing me and maybe killing the rest of you before the night is through. That’s what the hunters do. They kill vampires. I mean, look at what Hollywood has done to us. Made us into bloodsucking, murderous monsters. Ugly, white-faced bat creatures. Scary, icky night stalkers. Or, on the other hand, you have the hot, steamy vampire lovers. Those are my favorites, of course, but they’re still mostly evil.”

I pulled the microphone off the stand so I could hold it closer to my mouth.

“And evil things should be killed, right? If we were all just regular folks—doctors, lawyers, and schoolteachers—going about our daily business… well, that would be another thing. We wouldn’t deserve to die because of that. These hunters would be the murderers then, wouldn’t they? But we’re not those normal, everyday, boring things.”

I took a deep breath. “We’re monsters. Evil, scary, fanged monsters. Strong and dangerous, able to look after ourselves and our nasty friends and families. We give the hunters a run for their money, don’t we? We’d never make it easy on them or they might enjoy it too much. Might look at killing us as a game, a hobby—big fun. Something they can do to feel powerful and important.

“They have the weapons, sure. They have the teamwork, okay. But at the end of the day—in the wee hours of the night—take a look around, my monstrous friends… we have the goddamned numbers.”

I heard a rustle through the crowd as they looked around at one another, whispering about what I was saying and the point I was trying to get across. I hoped to God I was making that point loud and clear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barry climb up on top of his chair.

“She’s right,” he said loudly. “We are monsters! And there’s a hell of a lot more of us than there are of them.”

There was silence for a moment, and then another vampire rose to his feet. And then another. And then another. In the space of a few heartbeats, the entire club of a hundred-plus vamps were on their feet, staring up at the hunters, their fangs catching what little light there was in the club. I heard a growing growl, which got louder and louder, and I felt my grip on the microphone increase along with the tension in the room.

I turned to look at Peter. His eye was very wide and white, and I could see a shiny film of sweat on his face now. I smiled at him.

“Thanks. That’s pretty much all I wanted to say.”

My army of monsters took a collective step closer to the stage. I placed the microphone back on the stand and shaded my eyes from the bright lights. I glanced at Peter again.

“Now, where were we?”

“Smug little bitch,” he said under his breath, but I could taste the fear that covered his words like a candy coating.

The vampires never had thought to fight back collectively against the hunters. They considered themselves victims that were going to be picked off one at a time. They didn’t know what to do except to try to avoid it. Well, avoidance didn’t get you much in life. Except in this case, it might get you dead. I figured, if the hunters thought they were dealing with evil monsters, then let them have to deal with evil monsters. See how long they still found it fun and games.

Peter took a step toward me, but I felt strong arms come around my waist and pull me off the stage. I turned to see Quinn behind me.

“Good plan,” he said.

“Thanks. Worked on it for all of thirty seconds.”

Peter grabbed the microphone. “Yeah, great plan, bitch. Well, we’ve got more than one way to kill you pieces of shit. This was just a small part of it. You’ll all be dead in the next couple of days, and you’ll never even see it coming.”

“Now, how are you going to kill us in your current position?” I asked him sweetly.

“I’m not.” Then he laughed and it sounded just this side of insane. “You’re already killing yourselves. Just being here. Just drinking here. It’s so simple, too. You’re all so stupid to not see it coming.”

I felt Thierry’s hand on the small of my back. I looked up into his eyes; then he turned his gaze on Peter.

“Do you mean how you’ve poisoned the blood supply?”

A gasp went through the club.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Very smart. Yes, all your blood has been tainted. My idea, might I add. We’ve had the Blood Delivery Guys working with us, under duress, for more than a week. By now, you all have enough poison in your systems to drop dead in agony within days. And there’s no antidote.” He laughed.

I stared at Thierry. Oh, my God. Poisoned blood? Everyone I was aware of got their blood by buying it. Nobody got it the old-fashioned way anymore—it just wasn’t done. Even after finally standing up for ourselves, we still were all going to die.

Thierry nodded. “It was a brilliant plan. However, I recently stopped using the Blood Delivery Guys. I now use the Blood Drivers—a little more expensive, but well worth it, don’t you think? Perhaps the shared uniforms I arranged threw you off a bit. No, the Blood Delivery Guys haven’t personally made a delivery in over a week. Everyone in the city has also made the change. I personally made sure of it.”