Blood and Bullets Page 0,1

leaning against my car. I don’t like humans leaning on my car, but a vampire? Oh, hell no. She is a fully restored 1966 Mercury Comet and she deserves better than that. This vampire had called out my name.

Oh yeah, I’m Deacon Chalk, occult bounty hunter, sometimes vampire slayer.

This should be interesting.

“Stay right there and tell me what you want.”

She did not move except to tilt her head sideways, regarding me like a snake does a wounded bird on the ground. “I want you to protect me from the Nyteblade.” Thin arms held out the flat package in her hands. It was a manila envelope. “I have information here to help you find him.” She looked earnestly at me in the sodium light. Small white teeth bit her bottom lip and she had the good grace to keep her fangs sheathed. The effect was scared little girl and it pulled at that non-logic place inside me again. “There is money in here. I know you get paid to protect people from monsters. I want to hire you.”

What?

Wait.

The vampire wanted to hire me?

I have had vampires try to kill me, and I have had them run from me, but I have never, ever had one try to hire me. It went against my one and only rule.

“I don’t work for monsters. I kill them.”

That thick mess of hair hung low around her face in what looked like shame. Her voice was quiet. “You know I am a vampire? How?”

“It’s my job to know.” And that was true. Most normal people would think she was strange since she was barefoot and barearmed in a summer dress when it was deep Georgia fall. It wasn’t cold enough to think too much about it, but it was a pretty cool night. Jacket weather. So her wearing just a sundress was weird, but not a reason to be alarmed.

I knew what she was because she was just off. Moving either just a bit too fast to be human or stopping a bit too still like only the undead can. The thing that unmistakably marked her as a vampire was the smell. Vampires smell like big snakes, all venom and shed skin. I don’t know why, but they do. And a little like roasted almonds.

Heat began to build in the muscles of my neck and shoulders. Widening my stance, I shifted the angle I held the gun at. You can’t hold any gun, much less mine, for very long in one position. You have to keep moving around or your muscles fatigue pretty quickly. The problem with moving around is it’s not conducive to shooting your target. A target like the vampire standing in front of you.

“So, exactly what is a ‘Nyteblade’?”

She swayed in the sullen, sodium lighting of the parking lot. Back and forth, back and forth, over and over, just slightly back and forth. The manila envelope slipped completely from thin fingers, spinning to fall at her bare feet. Narrow shoulders hunched, drawing her chin down to her chest like an owl, and she wrapped both slender arms around herself. A fine tremble raised tendons to stand in stark relief against her skin like steel cables.

This vampire chick was really freaking me out. I know vampires, and they don’t act like this. They are usually either an oil-slick smooth, diabolical predator or a bloodthirsty, slaughterous, vicious predator. What they did not act like were scared, little-girl, meth addicts. My whistle made her skin jump. She didn’t look at me, but it got her attention.

“Again, what is a Nyteblade?”

The voice that answered was a strangled whisper from inside the tangled veil of her hair. “He is a monster. A hunter of vampires.” Her weak mewl faltered, the words coming in halts and stops. “He is an agent of destruction.” Her body was now shaking so bad it caused her teeth to rattle. My grip was tight on the Desert Eagle. Whistling again, I tried to derail her breakdown. “Please help me,” she squeezed out. “I have to convince you.” Her hands wrung together, bones clickety-clacking against each other. Hair along my arms began to stand on end.

A tiny move of my finger pulled the Desert Eagle’s trigger to the break; another twitch would plant a bullet in her skull.

Nappy blond hair whipped as her head turned in my direction again. It was a jerky, too-fast-to-be-human movement. Those big eyes of hers were glazed over, chin waggling as her mouth hung open. She looked like someone