Page 93 of Dead & Breakfast
“All right, that’s the last time I buy holy water from a Facebook ad,” Trip complained.
“It wouldn’t work on me—”
“Seriously?” Trip shouted. “What even are you?”
“Jewish.” Arthur shrugged. “Your standard holy water might work on a Catholic vampire, though good luck finding one of them around. Most vampires tend to be atheists these days. You see, there’s a loophole in the curse where—”
“I don’t care!” Trip stomped his boot not unlike a child mid-tantrum. He was apparently out of weapons to use against a vampire. With a sudden devious grin, Trip pulled a pocketknife out and flicked it open.
“You know I can’t bleed, right?” Arthur sighed. Perhaps he should be grateful Dr.Young’s perception of vampires seemed to be drawn from the likes ofBuffy the Vampire Slayer, but honestly it was terribly disheartening. Perhaps when Nora’s version of Trident Falls was more established, he’d talk to her about some community education regarding paranormal reality versus myth.
“Good thing I didn’t come here to killyou, then.” Trip’s grin had a desperate, feral edge Arthur didn’t care for at all.
Without warning, Trip lunged, not for Arthur, but for the bed beside him. Arthur stepped in the way, grabbing Trip by both his upper arms and shoving him back. Trip stumbled over McMartin’s prone form and caught himself on the doorway.
Moving him was easier than Arthur expected, considering Trip’s size. Perhaps it was fortuitous indeed that it was night, when Arthur’s budding vampire powers would be at his disposal. He’d just have to figure out what they were and how to use them…no small featwithoutjuggling a life-or-death altercation.
Arthur advanced. He had to get Trip out of here, away from Brody, maybe get the attention of hospital security or something. Where was the nurse, or McMartin’s backup? Arthur wouldn’t have put it past the man to insist on going after the rogue vampire alone. It was the silly sort of thing someone in a movie would do. Not that Arthur was any better, coming here without Salvatore.
“It’s kind of sad.” Arthur didn’t know much about Trip but guessed a guy like him had to have a pretty fragile ego. It was time to bait him and find out. “You got all prepared to fight a vampire, and you still couldn’t manage to hurt me even a little.”
Trip stumbled back into the deserted hallway, a snarl not unlike a wolf’s on his lips.
“No wonder you think we threaten humanity, if you’re any indication of how clever non-paranormals are.”
“Get away from me!” Trip grabbed the nearest object, one of a few chairs lining the walls, and hefted it at Arthur. Arthur jumped back, dodging it easily. But the chair collided with the hard floor, splintering the cheap wood into…a stake.
That certainly complicated things.
With a grunt, Trip wrenched off a broken leg and brandished it between them. “Aha! Wood! Your one weakness.”
Salvatore would be furious he was absent for such a perfect setup to a homoerotic joke, but Arthur wasn’t laughing.
Itwouldbe an accident that Trip finally had a weapon that scared Arthur. The other myths might be false, but a bit of sharp wood through the heart was really all it would take to permanently change Arthur’s status from undead to dead-dead.
He glanced from the stake to Trip and back again. He could run for it…but then Trip would be alone with Brody and all this would be for naught. No, he needed to lure Trip away from his son somehow. Arthur was committed to protecting Brody now, so he might as well follow through in a spectacular fashion. One way or another, either he or Trip would prove to be alarmingly stupid. He grinned, imagining how proud Salvatore would be of the tomfoolery about to come from his lips.
“Oh, gee, a wooden stake. How original.”
“Are you kidding?” Trip faltered, eyeing the makeshift stake in his hand with distaste. Then he looked back at Arthur and grinned. “No, I’m not falling for it. This one’s got to be legit.”
“If you want to believe every lie they tell about us, be my guest.”
Trip grinned. “You sound a little scared there, bloodsucker.”
Arthurwasa little scared, if he was being honest with himself. As he backed down the hallway, toward the elevators and stairwell, he glanced over his shoulder. When was backup going to arrive? He would even welcome a random nurse.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Arthur said, more to convince himself than anyone else.
There was no one coming, at least not quickly enough to save Arthur. He’d have to do his best, though he’d never been good in a fight. He didn’t have a natural talent for violence. Not like Trip apparently did.
With a yell, Trip darted forward, stake first. Arthur scrambled back but lost his footing on the corner of a cart full of medical supplies. The world whooshed by—as did a collection of gloves, masks, and gauze—and he landed on his back, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Not that he needed it there.
Trip knelt over him, stake poised to strike. Arthur grabbed Trip’s wrists and pushed, but it was no use. Budding vampire powers or not, Trip still had the upper hand. The stake inched closer to Arthur’s chest, toward his heart. It might not be beating, but he still very much needed it to not be impaled upon a plywood splinter.
Desperate, Arthur glanced around for anything that could help. What he saw instead was the shiny elevator door reflecting a blurry black shape. Arthur squinted, and as the shape came into focus, laughter bubbled up and tore from his lips, relief flooding his limbs. It was a cat. And it appeared to be floating in midair.
“What’s so funny?” Trip grunted, leaning harder on Arthur, pushing the stake lower.
