Chapter 17 #3
The decorations are over-the-top—fake cobwebs everywhere, plastic skeletons hanging from the ceiling, jack-o’-lanterns with flickering LED lights, bats suspended on fishing line.
There’s a fog machine working overtime, creating a low mist that swirls around everyone’s feet.
The bar is decorated with what looks like real bones, probably plastic, hopefully plastic, and the bartenders are dressed as various monsters.
We move around, just enjoying the scene before we start doing anything.
Flynn’s hand never leaves my back, a constant warm, well, cool, presence that grounds me in the chaos.
People keep looking at us—at him in his Van Helsing costume with the leather coat and the crosses, at me in my Victorian vampire getup. We make quite the pair.
I turn to look at Flynn, a soft smile on him at all times. Tonight we’re just us. A vampire hunter and his prey. And it feels so nice to be able to be young without having to think about anything else.
Until a pair of red eyes lock with mine.
A pair of red eyes that belong to a man with his teeth very much sunk into a girl’s throat.
The girl is dressed as a fairy, all glitter and wings, and she’s swaying in his arms like she’s drunk.
But I know that look—that’s not alcohol, that’s blood loss.
The vampire is dressed as a pirate, because of course he is, and he’s feeding right there on the dance floor.
The girl’s neck is at an angle that makes my hunter instincts scream, and I can see the blood trickling down her collarbone, disappearing into her sparkly dress.
Just like that. In the open. And he notices me right away. His red eyes meet mine, and he smirks around his mouthful of the girl’s throat. Cocky bastard.
“Did you bring the stake?” I ask Flynn, as I keep my eyes on the vampire across the room.
“Of course, it’s part of the costume,” he replies, opening his jacket and showing me the pointy piece of wood resting in the sheath looped on his belt. The stake is ash wood, carved and polished, the tip sharp enough to pierce through bone.
“Might need to switch roles for a moment.”
“What—” Flynn can’t even finish the statement before I move him so that he’s now facing the other side of the room.
“Damn, I can’t believe you spotted one before me.”
“Is it a competition now? I was born and raised to spot you.”
He snorts. “I know,” he says, and I can hear the pride in his voice. “I’ll take care of him. No need to ruin your evening with some new vampire scum.”
“It’s okay, I can do it.”
He then turns so fast to another side of the room, his body going rigid. “No you can’t.” He sighs. “What is it with us going to a nightclub and always having to create a massacre?”
“More than one?”
He clears his throat. “I count five.”
I follow his gaze and spot them—two by the bar, one near the DJ booth, one by the bathroom, and the pirate on the dance floor. They’re all feeding, all taking advantage of the chaos and the costumes and the fact that everyone here is too drunk or high to notice that the blood is real.
“That’s it. This was a stupid idea. We’re clearly not meant to socialize like this.”
“I mean, it is Halloween.”
“Yeah yeah, I know. Easiest meal of the year. You truly are not original at all.”
“With the difference that I don’t kill people, and they do.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud, the sound lost in the pounding music. “You might want to rephrase that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Innocent people. I don’t kill innocent people.”
“Wanna get this over with? I was gonna get some punch later. It seems pretty strong and it has gummy worms and eyes in it.”
His lips curl up, and even in the dim light I can see the amusement in his eyes. “With pleasure.”
“I’ll lure them outside. You walk out when you see all of them following me, now please give me the stake.”
“So bossy.” Flynn’s look is amused. “Here,” he says, handing me the stake. The wood is smooth and cool in my palm, familiar and comforting. “Retired vampire hunter.”
“Yeah, yeah, mock me as much as you want. I’m going now.”
He sighs, but doesn’t stop me. “I’ll be right there, please be careful,” he says, brushing his lips on my temple. The kiss is soft, gentle, at odds with what we’re about to do.
“I’ll be patiently waiting with the stake in someone’s heart.”
And with that, off I go toward the back door of the venue. And as on cue, the five vampires follow me right as I step foot out in the open. The London breeze welcoming me.
The alley behind the club is narrow and dark, lit only by a single flickering streetlight and the red glow of an exit sign.
It smells like garbage and piss and the Thames, that distinctive London smell that’s somehow both disgusting and comforting.
The ground is wet from earlier rain, puddles reflecting the weak light.
There are dumpsters lined up against one wall, overflowing with trash, and the brick walls are covered in graffiti.
Foolish men. They continue to underestimate me.
And right as the last vampire walks outside, I start my favorite kind of dance.
I stake the first vampire in a matter of seconds, the wood sliding between his ribs with a wet thunk that I feel all the way up my arm.
His eyes go wide with surprise, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he realizes what’s happening.
The stake pierces his heart and he starts to crumble, his body turning completely limp as he hits the ground.
A second one tries to grab my dress, his fingers catching in the tulle, but I’m onto the one on the right faster than he can get to me. I spin, using the momentum to drive my elbow into his face. I hear the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking, feel the spray of blood across my cheek.
“You cheap hunter bitch,” the one I just staked on the side says, spitting blood out, and as he loses his attention, I kick him in the crotch.
He doubles over with a wheeze, and I use the opportunity to yank the stake free and drive it into his back, angling up toward his heart.
But he’s not done talking. “I can’t wait to rip that pretty dress off and have my way with you until there’s not even one drop of blood left in your body. ”
“Such colorful language,” I say, laughing, pulling the stake free with a wet sucking sound. “Please do attempt that, I can’t wait to see you fail miserably.”
“I should turn you and make you one of our own with the way you talk. I’m sure you can be fun in bed.”
This is when Flynn steps in, cracking his knuckles.
The sound echoes in the alley, sharp and threatening.
His gray eyes have gone dark, almost black, and I can see his fangs fully extended.
He looks every inch the predator he is, and the other vampires take a step back instinctively.
“You see, I was going to let my woman here enjoy all the fun, but you just threatened her, and I really don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine. ”
The group that was circling me turns to face him. Their eyes widening realizing who’s standing in front of them. Even in the dim light, even dressed as Van Helsing, they seem to recognize him. Flynn Lancaster. The vampire who now kills other vampires. The monster’s monster.
“Sharing is caring, mate,” the youngest one of the group says, his voice cracking with false bravado.
“See, mate.” Flynn moves so fast no one could stop him.
Crack.
The sound of the vampire’s neck breaking is loud in the quiet alley. Flynn doesn’t even use the stake—just grabs the guy’s head and twists, the movement casual and efficient. One vampire down.
“That’s the problem.” Crack. Another one goes down, this one’s spine snapping like a twig as Flynn bends him backward at an impossible angle.
“I really don’t like to share.” At that statement, I move on the one in front of me and stake him with no trouble.
The wood slides home, and he falls down, his blood mixing with the puddles on the ground.
“The mouthy one is mine, Talulla, don’t you dare.”
“All yours, babe.”
Flynn grabs his target with zero effort as I move onto the last vampire. I take my time with this one, enjoying the play, and almost making him believe he has a chance. He’s young, probably only a few years turned, and he’s sloppy. He leaves himself open, fights like he’s still human.
I hear my vampire in the back chuckle as he drops the body of his own prey down. The sound is dark and amused, and it makes me smile even as I’m fighting.
“Stop playing, Talulla. I’ve got a glass of that ridiculous punch ready for you inside.”
And with that, I wink at him and push my stake into the chest of the man in front of me.
The sound of his ribs cracking as I push further and further.
His eyes widening as he realizes he’s perishing for the last time.
The stake grinds against bone, slides through muscle and tissue, and then finds his heart.
He gasps, blood bubbling up from his lips, and then he’s gone.
I should feel repulsed by it, and I do, but the hunt. Even if I’m out of the game, it remains fun.
“Well done, darling,” Flynn says, and I realize he’s still playing with the one who wanted to turn me. The vampire is on his knees, Flynn’s hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him slightly off the ground. “Now, where were we?” He turns his focus back to the man.
“You’re a dead vampire,” the nameless body tries to say, choking on his own spit as Flynn’s hand tightens around his neck. His feet kick uselessly, his hands clawing at Flynn’s arm.
“You’re truly hysterical.” My vampire punches him right on the nose, breaking it with no effort. Blood sprays across Flynn’s Van Helsing costume, dark and wet. “You could apologize and I’d make your death painless, but nope. You continue to be mouthy for no reason at all.”
“Screw you.”
Another punch, this one to the jaw. I hear teeth crack. “See, this is where young vampires really make me rage.” Flynn sighs, and he sounds almost disappointed. “You have no respect for the elders.”