Slayed Page 4

  “Good, maybe the town can convince her to take a lesser payment for keeping mum. I’ll tell them to lowball her in negotiations and as soon as I contact the removal crew we’ll head over. See if you can at least get the body out of the way so it won’t be seen by anyone else.”

  “Okay.”

  I shut my phone and my shoulders slump. “Any chance you can just pretend this didn’t happen?” I ask.

  Kiki laughs hysterically. “Are you on crack? You just freaking staked and cut the head off what looked like an honest to God vampire and you think I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen?” She laughs some more and throws her arms in the air. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. I feel like I’ve been sleeping for a hundred years and all of sudden I woke up. Wow!”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s just the adrenaline pumping through your system; it temporarily negates the effect of all the alcohol you consumed. The booze will hit you again soon and hopefully you’ll forget all about this.”

  “No way; I was meant to see this—it’s like destiny. And since you came prepared,” she says, pointing to the stake protruding from the woman’s heart, “I’m assuming this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

  “I’ve lost count, actually.”

  “Incredible. You’re an actual vampire slayer.” She circles the body and then looks at me. “Wait, you said your last name was Van Helsing? As in the guy who killed Dracula?”

  “He didn’t actually kill Dracula—he just kind of supervised.”

  “Wow,” she says again. “I don’t know where to begin. I have, like, a gazillion questions to ask you, but the big one is …” She pulls me away from the car. “Is Sam going to turn into a vampire?” she whispers. “And if so, how much time does he have left?”

  “He’s okay,” I assure her. “To get turned you’d have to have your blood completely drained and left for dead. The corpse then reanimates the following night. Morticians always look for bite marks so they won’t be taken by surprise.”

  She laughs. “Phew! That’s a huge relief. You’re cool, Sam,” she calls out. “Did you get a bandage from the first-aid kit?”

  “Yes, Miss Crusher.”

  “Your neck okay?”

  He gives her the thumbs-up.

  She turns back to me. “He’s so badass—if only he wasn’t like thirty—and gay—I’d be all over him. But we were a little worried. I mean besides being, like, undead, my parents would’ve probably found some way to blame me. ‘If only you had stayed with the band and not run off to the summer cottage, Sam wouldn’t be a vampire,’” she says in a high-pitched voice. “Good help is hard to come by, but they’d write me out of their will if that happened.”

  It’s obvious Kiki Crusher is living on a very different planet than mine.

  She looks down at the body. “Are they all crazed like that or do some of them have it together enough to, like, go out with?”

  “Go out with?”

  “Yeah, you know, like on a date.” She looks at me hopefully. “In books vampires are all really romantic. Wouldn’t you just die to hear ‘Daphne, I’ve been waiting a hundred years for a girl like you to come into my life,’” she says with some sort of foreign accent. She fans her face. “It’d be so hot.”

  I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I point a finger at the corpse. “Did that look like someone anybody would want to date?”

  Kiki appraises the body parts. “Well, she looked better before you cut her head off, but maybe she was just really cranky because we interrupted her,” Kiki says hopefully. “Or maybe she was just having an off night.”

  “She’s a vampire—all her nights were off!”

  Kiki sticks her lip out in a pout. “They can’t all be bad.”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but there are older vampires who survive the need-to-feed-twenty-four-seven early stage. They pretty much keep to themselves so they don’t get staked.” I raise an eyebrow. “And there are plenty of weirdos with vampire fetishes who don’t mind sharing their blood, if you get my drift.”

  She pumps a fist in the air. “Then there’s hope!”

  “Why would you want to date someone who drinks blood and is short a soul? I mean really?”

  Kiki’s eyes fill with disappointment. “But I always imagined older vampires would have this maturity that allows them to appreciate a good woman. Unlike assholes like Gabe.”

  I reach out and touch the knot on the back of my head and wince. As the adrenaline in my own body wanes, my scraped knuckles sting and my fingers ache from the death grip I used on the stake. A dull twinge pulses in my right shoulder, but there’s no rest for the weary. “As much as I’d love to chat about why dating a vampire might very well be better than hooking up with Gabe, I need to move the body before anyone else sees it.”

  I survey the torso and head lying nearby—it looks like she was middle-aged and nicely dressed. Not a typical homeless-person-turned-vamp which are usually the first to go when places get infested. But maybe a summer resort town like this is low on homeless people. Some vamp probably got her to open the door to her house and wrangled an invitation in.

  I grab an arm and start to drag the corpse back by the Dumpster. Kiki grabs the other arm and joins me. I stop and stare at her in disbelief.

  “I’ve never been squeamish,” she says.

  “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

  She continues pulling so I keep going.

  Kiki stumbles a bit. “Damn heels.”

  I almost laugh—I could’ve told her hunting in heels is a bad idea.

  The body gets caught on a snag in the pavement and we tug harder. “She’s heavier than she looks,” Kiki says. “And I thought there’d be more blood.”

  “Since she wasn’t alive her blood doesn’t pump like ours, so no big spurt like in the horror movies. If I had staked her in the stomach there would’ve been more—depending on how much she’d fed.”

  We move the body around the side of the Dumpster and my nose wrinkles as I inhale the rotting food.

  Kiki wipes her brow. “Is there, like, an army of vampires trying to kill mankind I should be worried about?”

  I give her a sideways look. “No. For the most part they just have outbreaks here and there—like the flu. Generally, vampires are solitary, but sometimes they get lonely—especially the new ones—and they make a ‘friend’ not realizing the newbie vamp will be competing with them for blood. More bodies mean you’re more likely to get noticed.”

  Kiki nods. “Why didn’t she turn to dust?”

  “Only a really, really old vamp would do that. Once you stake them the process of decay accelerates to the point it would have been at if the body wasn’t in a state of vampiric suspended animation of sorts. So ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time there is some sort of body to dispose of.”

  I go back and pick the head up by the hair and shiver. Cutting off heads is the easy part—it’s picking them up afterward that still gets me. I hold the head out at arm’s length to avoid the blood slowly dripping from the neck and mouth. “Since you have such a strong stomach you can get the head next time,” I joke, placing it gently on the ground a few feet away from the body.

  “Do you have superpowers?”

  A laugh escapes my mouth. “Superpowers?”

  She nods. “Yeah, are you, like, a chosen one or part of a superior race of people who have special powers to help you fight vampires and save the world?”

  She makes staking vampires sound almost noble. “No, I just come from a crazy family who for reasons beyond my comprehension decided to exterminate the undead instead of holding down nine-to-five jobs. Actually, my dad’s family has been doing this for a couple of hundred years, but why my mother joined the fray is a complete mystery. She refuses to talk about it and I’ve given up asking.”

  “Wow.” Kiki looks down at the body and then back up at me. “This is so awesome. I cannot believe I’m really going to hunt vampires wit
h you!” She shakes her fists, and lets out a squeal.

  My stomach flips. “What? Who said anything about hunting vampires with me?”

  “You did. You said next time I could pick up the head.”

  “I was kidding when I said that. And besides, who ever heard of a vampire slayer named Kiki?”

  “Well, it’s a lot better than a slayer named Maybelle. And I think Kiki Crusher is very slayerish,” she says, wiggling her fingers in the air for emphasis.

  I roll my eyes. “There is nothing slayerish about jazz hands.”

  She puts a hand on one hip. “Yeah, well, Daphne doesn’t exactly scream slayer either.”

  “Touché.”

  We stare at each other for a few seconds and then Kiki looks down at the head. “Why did you cut it off by the way?”

  “If the head reconnects with the body the vampire can come back to life. Oh …” I walk over to my purse and pull out a garlic bulb and then stuff it in the vampire’s mouth, careful to avoid cutting my fingers on the fangs. “You’re supposed to use garlic, too.”

  Kiki eyes the corpse. “If the head is already you know—decapitated—why bother with the garlic? And do you really think it would reattach? Seems like a bit of a stretch to me.”

  “A bit of a stretch?” I gasp, glaring at her.

  “Have you actually seen that happen?”

  “Well, no,” I admit. “But slayers have been following up staking with decapitation and garlic for hundreds of years.”

  Kiki scoffs. “People did a lot of boneheaded stuff hundreds of years ago, but it’s the twenty-first century now. A million bucks says the head won’t reattach itself even if you glued it back on.”

  “Oh, and you feel safe with this bet because of your vast experience with severed vampire heads?”

  She points to the torso. “It’s not like a vampire with a stake through its heart is going to pick up its head, place it on its neck and then ‘alakazam!’ they’re back to life. And really, how would a decapitated vampire even find its head?”

  I stare at the body and have to admit it does sound a little far-fetched—but I remind myself the same can be said for vampires. “I was told it could happen and just the fact that there are undead creatures living on blood shows there is some pretty freaky stuff in the world, and I for one am not ruling out that the heads can reattach themselves.”

  Still, I make a mental note to ask Mom and Dad about this.

  Kiki laughs. “Whatever. I’m not buying it.”

  My upper lip curls up in annoyance. “And how many vampires have you killed?” I ask, echoing my mother’s earlier question to Officer MacCready.

  She puts her hands on her hips defiantly. “None yet, but if we were attacked by, like, a whole army of vampires I’d think we’d either want to cut off their heads or stake them—doing both would be redundant and bending over and putting garlic in their mouths is just asking to get ambushed from behind.” She fingers the top of the stake sticking out of the woman’s chest. “Don’t you think this pretty much does the trick?”

  “No!” I say defiantly, as I pull the stake out.

  “Well, if it’s all the same to you I think I’ll be a rebel slayer.” She punctuates this statement with more jazz hands. “I’ll just use stakes as my primary method of slaying. If you still want to cut the heads off I won’t hold it against you—unless we were in that vampire army scenario. Then I’d insist you pick one method or the other because time would be of the essence.”

  I throw my hands up in the air. “This is ridiculous. There is no vampire army and even if there were I highly doubt your skills as a singer-slash-backup-dancer qualify you to hunt squirrels, let alone an army of the undead.”

  “Hello? Is someone forgetting that I clocked that vamp—maybe even saving your life—with a well-placed high kick?”

  “I could’ve easily gotten her off me.” I decide not to admit that having a vampire on top is probably the worst position to be in because they’re so damn strong.

  Kiki laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure you were seconds away from getting the upper hand, but I also took tae kwon do for a year when I was ten and Master Kandro said I was a natural.”

  “And this qualifies you to hunt vampires how?”

  Kiki spins and then kicks up. The tip of one of her boots sails a fraction of an inch from my chin. A spray of dirt from the bottom of her shoe hits my face and I jump back away from her. “Are you completely nuts?”

  She loses her balance and crashes to the pavement again. “Crap!”

  I wipe my face with my sleeve. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She slowly pushes herself up. “Showing you what a year of tae kwon do could do to a vampire. If you had been one—and I hadn’t landed on my ass—I would’ve just knocked you to the ground and you’d have a stake sticking out of your chest.” She brushes her hands like it would’ve been as easy as driving a pen through a piece of paper. “By the way, do all the stakes look like this? It’s a little big—like a fence post. I think a trimmer model might be more fashion forward, don’t you?”

  Usually at this point I’d be consoling the witnesses until the police arrive, but Kiki Crusher is acting like killing vamps is the next big craze complete with “fashion forward” accessories. “Do you even have a clue how much strength it takes to get a stake through a rib cage?” I say finally. “I am constantly working out and it’s still hard to do.”

  “I did notice it took you two tries to get it in.” She curls up her arm and makes a muscle. “But I work out too. I know I could do it if you show me how.”

  Dear God, I’ve officially had it. I am standing by a Dumpster reeking of rotting food. The back of my head is throbbing, and my body aches. My mother will be here any second, pissed off that I killed the vampire in front of a witness. Officer MacCready will be pissed the town will have to pay her and the driver, and I’m pissed Kiki thinks this lame existence of mine is something to be envied.

  “Look, you and I are never going to hunt vampires together. Not going to happen!”

  Kiki’s brow furrows and she bites her lip. “Why? Is there some super-secret slayer society? Sign me up; I’ll pay the dues.”

  “It’s just easier to hunt alone.”

  “But I could help you.”

  I shake my head. “This is a dangerous business.”

  “I don’t care,” she insists.

  Why won’t she take no for an answer? I put my hands on my hips. “Okay, to be completely honest, I’m pretty sure you have a drinking problem, therefore making you a huge liability. Simply put, I’m not risking my life for some bored little rich kid. This is serious stuff, and definitely not for amateurs.”

  “Jeez,” she says quietly. “I just wanted to help.” She rubs her backside where she landed on the ground. “And I don’t have a drinking problem—not every night, anyway. I would never drink on the job.”

  “Look, the police are going to arrive any second—”

  Her eyes widen. “The police know about vampires too?”

  “Yes,” I say wearily, as my temple starts to throb. “A lot of people know about them, but it’s kept quiet because it would cause mass panic, cripple the restaurant and entertainment industries, and it’s not something the government wants to make common knowledge. Nine out of ten people will never even encounter a vampire.”

  “Wow, this is just like the Area 51 conspiracy, only with vampires. Cool.”

  I’m still having trouble fathoming what she thinks is so cool about this whole thing, but it’s clear she’s completely deranged. “Look, the vampire task force for South Bristol will take you and your driver to the station and negotiate a fee so you can be in on the conspiracy while keeping your mouth shut. Cool, right?”

  Kiki nibbles her lip and wobbles a little—the alcohol’s obviously hitting her again. “Does paying people even really work? You’d think the tabloids would be paying bigger bucks than the government ever would.”

  I look her in the eye. “If you
don’t take the money, they kind of imply they’ll ruin you. As in you just disappear.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s fucked-up. But they don’t need to pay me. The last thing I need is ‘washed-up child star says driver was attacked by an army of vampires—news at eleven.’”

  “Please stop saying ‘army of vampires,’” I beg.

  “Sorry,” she snaps. “I didn’t grow up hunting vampires so I don’t know everything like you do. I didn’t realize this was such an elitist profession.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and, for the hundredth time, wonder what planet Kiki Crusher is from. “Killing vampires is not fun, cool, or fashionable. It just honest to God sucks!”

  She looks toward the car at her driver. “Maybe it’s not fun or cool, but it is important. Without you, Sam and I might be dead—or undead.”

  I hear a noisy muffler come up the alley and I’m relieved to see Mom and Dad pulling up in the van. A white hearselike car follows them and I figure that must be the South Bristol vamp squad.

  Mom and Dad get out and look at Kiki as if she’s some sort of wounded fawn. “Are you okay, Miss?” Dad asks gently.

  “I know this must have been quite a shock,” Mom says, reaching out a hand to pat Kiki’s shoulder. “You’re a very brave girl.”

  Mom’s laying it on thick—anything to keep us from looking bad during the negotiations.

  Two men with buzz cuts get out of the white car and march toward us. They’re wearing dark suits and no-nonsense attitudes. While Mom is trying to butter Kiki up, they’ll use the opposite technique and try to stay completely emotionless and avoid saying anything that might upset her more. Two men in hazmat suits get out of the back—the cleanup crew. I tilt my head toward the Dumpster so they can pick up the body.

  Dad points to me. “Agents, this is our daughter, Daphne. And this courageous young lady here is the one who witnessed the attack.”

  “I’m Special Task Force Agent Sloan,” the tall one says shaking Kiki’s hand. “You’ll need to come down to the station. We have a counselor waiting to help you deal with this … event.”