Fat and dumb, just the way I like my men. Well, I
like my men to breathe and eat something other than
human blood as well, which is probably why I don't
date Vampires - I just kill them. Case in point: the
pair running towards me like some sort of sicko Nike
advert for the tanning disadvantaged. Unlike them I've
trained for these encounters, practiced; which is why
when the first thrown stake took the guy in the chest
he had that dumb arsed surprised expression on his
face and I didn't.
Fairly new to the game these two, I'd say. Still a
little colour in their skin and they had that
distressing habit of staying corpse like once you've
killed them. Have to say one thing for the old ones,
least they dust themselves out of the equation once
they've been staked and dropped. Men can be so
inconsiderate like that. Death certainly doesn't seem
to improve matters much. Spinning on my heel I ducked
out of the way of the second guy and returned the
intended compliment with a back hand slice. Nothing
like my machete to end a perfectly dreadful date. That
was one goodbye kiss I could certainly live without.
Two down and the night was young - so am I.
It's times like these that when you look back you
sort of wished you hadn't. Sure, I'd taken down two of
them without breaking a sweat. Just me against the
fiends of the night and I was kicking arse. Just wish
I'd spent a little bit more time looking around for
trouble and a little less celebrating my success.
Sometimes reflection can be so painful. Glad I'm not a
mirror.
The first slash came as a surprise and the second
gate crashed the party with its friend. My arm stung
like I'd been bitten by something yucky with too many
wings, but when I looked down I wasn't so lucky. It's
not right really, you shouldn't ever see the bones
like that, especially your own. Arms look pretty good
with the flesh still on them - all over them, unlike
the one of mine which had been kindly opened by
persons, at that point, unknown. I've never liked
anatomy and this wasn't changing my opinion one bit.
About the time I was working out that I was under
attack the slap struck home without me even seeing the
arm that threw it. Like a human cricket ball I was out
and over the fence for six. I heal fast and can take a
good hiding as well without any sobs or tears. All
part of the genes and my upbringing I suppose. Even
so, hitting the wall tore the air out of my lungs and
left me sitting there like a grinning idiot. Fat and
dumb, didn't realise I was describing myself there
before as well. Must be more than two of them. See,
clever monkey can do more than tricks.
Now that it looked like I was down for the count the
guy who was using me as a dissection experiment
decided to show himself. Too tall, too thin and too
pale. Just like the rest of his kind. Showing me his
fangs was just unnecessary really. What is it about
these guys that they have to stand over you and gloat
like a Vincent Price wet dream? That's just so last
season. I mean, please, give me a break. Since I'd
just nailed two of your mates with Van Helsing charm
don't you think I'd have worked out the blood sucking
connection? Looks and brains as a package, that's me.
Looking at him now I could see why he stayed hidden
all the time. Thin lanky brown hair, a complexion that
not even Rikki could save with any number of make
overs and those shoes, don't even get me started. This
guy was long out of the sun, if you get what I mean -
long enough to have lost what little fashion clue he
ever might have had. I didn't know whether to be
scared of the teeth or the size of that collar. So I
chose option C, be pissed off instead. My arm was
getting to be a bother. For the first time I was
breaking a sweat and I didn't like it. Time to finish
this off quick before I got around to feeling the hurt
for real. Self pity much?
My mother told me to always keep a surprise under my
belt in case a boy gets overly excited. About the only
advice she gave me worth remembering. Instead of a
roll of coins in a sock like she mentioned I like
something with a little more point. Something fetching
in wood about hand sized. I don't think grinning boy
even saw it coming.: one moment giving me grave breath
and the next making like a deck of cards in a stiff
breeze. One thing I hate about this sort of guy is
washing him out of your hair afterwards. One time
after a patrol I had to convince my flatmate that I'd
been out at a costume party, as a walking ashtray.
Just before the guy turned completely to landfill I
noticed his hands. They were clean, no blood on them
at all. To wit, none of mine. This wasn't the guy who
sliced and diced me. There's another one out there. It
was time to make like a horse and bolt. Razor guy
could just wait 'til next time as this girl was out of
commission for the time being.
I dived out the hole in the wall so kindly made
before and ran like buggery. Discretion is the better
part of valour and I wanted my valour out of there in
the same number of pieces it came in with. After the
400 metre dash I rested against a shop front.
The sun was coming up soon and I was starting to need
a little more tender loving care than a few hours
sleep was going to give me. My arm was past the land
of ache and well into the suburbs of agony-ville. I
needed some medical care that wasn't out of an A.A.
first aid kit. In my bag I kept a little bottle for
just this sort of occasion. A few swallows, a little
drenching of my shirt - what's left of it dammit - and
hocus pocus. Another student drying out after a long
night on the town. How little they know.
The final step was a little cosmetic addition to the
wound, saves on explanations. Biting down hard on a
text book (you never know when you'll be able to
catch some study) I smashed my already messed up arm
through a window. Nice and authentic now - another
drunken accident with the glass splinters to boot.
Just as well the medical centre is open nice and
early.
That was two months ago and just now I've been able
to hold a pen without wanting to scream. Nice thing,
shock - does a wonderful job of hiding away the damage
till later on. Missed all the vital nooks and crannies
said the doctor, I was such a lucky girl. Yeah, when
it comes time to return the favour it'll be a shame
I'm not so exact. Once bitten - twice shy. Next time
I'll be looking for the claw master. But for now a
greater horror than the walking undead, homework.
You'd think they'd have found a cure for it by now but
oh no! Find cures for countless diseases in countries
no one half decent even goes to and yet I have to
spend my scarce free time staring at books and killing
more trees to make notes no-one cares about, least of
all me. That's justice for you.
"I think you'll find you made a mistake somewhat when
balancing the oxygens. If the reaction occurred as
you've written then there would be a most aromatic and
lovely cloud to behold bellowing out of the lab and
the faculty would be down one entire class."
I'd heard that voice before and things turned from
bad to worse soon after. Not bothering to turn around,
as that would betray my surprise and I for one won't
give him the satisfaction after the last time, I
stared straight ahead. "Well, if you'd actually help
rather than stand there like this was a peep show we'd
both be happy then wouldn't we." My voice came out a
little too much like a squeak so even to me it didn't
sound convincing. He chuckled in response and with the
sound from my bed he was making himself comfortable as
if for a long stay. I could feel him staring at me and
those eyes weren't to be met without trepidation. Ever
seen a possum staring down the front grill of a Mac
truck? It's like that but with more wheels.
"My word, I think she's stumbled on the answer to
cold fusion Badger!"
This time I didn't hold back the fright. Rather than
chuckle the speaker patted my shoulder like I was a
beloved niece. Somehow this was even worse. He was
standing right beside me reading my notes over my
shoulder, not even a hand-span away, and I never knew
until he let me know. I gave up with a grumble.
Turning my chair to keep them both in view at the same
time I pointed at my second uninvited guest and
motioned toward an empty chair.
"Thank Miss Clark, I do appreciate the gesture. Old
bones you know." Handel. That was his name. I remember
now. If the first man's eyes were fire these ones were
ice. Cold and sharp and deep. I had to force myself to
breathe, having forgotten to during the past few
moments. I could feel a warm flush starting to climb
past my collar. Bastard, I bet he doesn't even
realise.
"Still alive then I see," as soon as the words left
my mouth I cringed. Sure, first chance I get I sound
like an air head. Still, could have been far worse I
suppose. Begone foul shades or similar. I've seen
Badger angry before, not the sort of thing you can
forget without a fortune of therapy and little pills.
Handel is another story. From what he did when
rational I can't even imagine the deeds when someone
actually manages to piss him off. Be like Dresden but
in your own living room.
Both men thankfully replied with a soft chuckle and a
quick smile. If I wanted to feel stupid I'd go to
class more often. From the reply I could tell this was
a well worn conversation on their part. "Indeed,
figuratively perhaps but very much so, yes." Handel
spoke as Badger merely stared towards me.
They hadn't changed, not one damn bit. The same
clothes, the same expressions and the same damn looks.
I suppose that's their lot really. Annoying all the
same for having it rubbed into my face. As if
demanding attention my arm decided to ache with those
thoughts. I rubbed it gently through my sleeve to ease
away the tension and felt even angrier from the
attention I was getting in return. "What do you want?"
When the brain fails you there are always the fall
backs. Just like last time.
"Actually my dear we are here to offer you a favour."
It was back to Badger again. Good cop/bad cop, with
extra teeth. "Same bally business as before with a
little sweetener. How would you like to get a rematch
with that friend of yours except this time with the
odds a little more on your side?" Badger was staring
straight at my arm. They knew the guy who got away
after nailing me. Bastards.
"I'll bite, what's the guts?" Dammit! It's not many
who could say they managed a crap stand up comedy
routine in their room with a pair of undead. Might as
well just shut up and be done with it. Every time I
opened my mouth it's like they're already laughing at
me and I was just finishing the act.
"Actually Miss Clark you'll find we're the ones who
bite, but here are the details anyway." Back to the
good cop. Regular as clockwork.
As far as evenings go this one was a bust. Still, no
matter what it's better than homework.
