Page 11 of Cuddling Sucks in Coffins
Still, the deepest part of my soul shivered, even though I hated to admit it. What if I didn’t have the lady balls to go through this night after night, battling a dark unknown I wasn’t even sure I could beat? Maybe I should become an immortal vampire slayer to give me a boost in strength and more will to fight. Then if I beat Paul, I could live with my vamps forever. I could certainly think of worse things than that, but once again, the only thing holding me back was the thought of Mom in the hereafter, whatever that might look like. Without me. And me without her.
“Am I nuts?” I whispered. Of course I was. I was talking to a gate. But was I that nuts to think I actually stood a chance against Paul as I was right now? Well, I was still alive. So I guess score a touchdown or something for me, at least for the time being.
I smashed the lock from the gate, thinking there had to be an easier way than always breaking them. The gate swung open slowly in a long, painful wail as if mourning Tim. Hopefully another grounds man could be found to fill his shoes soon.
I closed the gate after me and started down my usual paths, taking comfort in the familiar dips and curves of the rocky path. “Here, vampy vampy vampy.”
It still felt strange hunting vampires when hours later, one would likely be screwing my brains out, but this was fine. At least that was what I told myself. The vampires who wandered the graveyard were brand new, lured there because that was where they thought they should be—among the dead. It must’ve been a very confusing time for them as they dealt with their feral bloodlust. But my vamps were older and more experienced. Still, the difference in how I treated the new and old wasn’t lost on me.
Several yards to my left, a tall gravestone growled. Odd for an inanimate object. Plucking my Pebbles stake from my bun, I marched toward it then peered behind the marble column. Nobody was there. Maybe itwasthe gravestone. After I gave it the stink-eye, I searched the cemetery, keeping my slayer sense on alert, and tightened my leather jacket against the frigid night.
The slightest shiver in the air behind me whirled me around. Red eyes met mine from six feet away. Fangs glinting in the moonlight, the vampire lunged toward me. But before I could raise my stake, a black blur flashed from the darkness. A metallic blade sang through the air and sliced the back of my hand. Pain flared. I dropped my stake on instinct and stumbled back.
What the hell?
The vampire was almost upon me, his jaws snapping and strings of drool running from his fangs down his chin.
Unarmed. I was unarmed andbleeding. No, wait. I snapped another stake free from the back belt loops of my pants. Now I was armed, but in my non-bleeding, non-dominant hand. This was sure to go well.
At the last possible second, I thrust the stake forward into the vampire’s chest. And missed his heart. Fuck.
His blood coated my hand and rained down on my boots. Still connected to my stake, the vampire lurched forward at my neck, a mad, gleeful smile splitting his mouth as if he were mocking me.
I shoved him back with a snarl of frustration, freeing my stake, and then stabbing it forward again. Target acquired. Mission accomplished.
Covering my wounded hand to staunch the blood flow, I looked around for whoever had sliced and diced me. The hooded figure stood a few feet away, the same one from last night, almost completely blended into the darkness.
“You missed,” the figure said. Male. An obnoxious one from the sound of him.
“You cut me,” I snapped.
“You’re the slayer,” he said.
“You’re a quick one.” I ground my teeth together, rolling my eyes to the sky in the hopes that it would zap this person out of existence. “Mind telling me what that was for? Do you normally go around trying to decapitate people’s hands?”
“I’m drawing the rest of the vampires nearby out so we can have a discussion.” He brought his fist to his mouth as if he were going to hurl. “If they can stand your stink.”
I leveled a glare at him, refusing to lower myself to a “yo momma” comeback. Funny, I’d grown used to being told I smelled... Wait. I peered closer. Was he a vampire and not a slayer like I’d originally thought?
“Are you a slayer?” I demanded.
He pointed left, to an incoming vampire.
I gripped my stake, still in my non-dominant hand, my other one still bleeding, and got the kill shot my first try.
“Why have a discussion now? Why not last night?” I asked, wiping the bottoms of my boots on a dry patch of grass.
He pointed right, to another incoming vampire, whom I quickly dispatched.
“Your pointing isn’t answering any of my questions,” I shot at him.
His head-to-toe black leather creaked as he studied me from inside his deep hood. “I’m following a trail set by those who chose you as the slayer.”
I looked at him sharply. “You better start explaining yourself, leavingnodetails out. You hear me?”
“Yes.” His voice hissed with annoyance, which bristled mine even more. “Loud and clear. I’m definitely not a slayer.” With a sweep of an arm, he revealed his head from under the hood. Orange-yellow eyes gazed at me, ringed by dark lashes, the same color as his thick, short hair. A smirk twisted his mouth, which was surrounded by facial scruff, and clearly a target for my fist. Some people’s faces—or vampire in his case—just begged to be punched, and this guy’s face ranked high on the list. So what was it about him that made me think he was a slayer?
“So you’re a vampire working for the slayer choosers,” I guessed.
