Ambrose snickered. “Poor hunter .Your muscle’s gone and flown away. Too bad for—”
She kicked him again. “Shut up.” She sat in his line of sight on the open road. And he finally got a good look at her.
Sleek platinum blonde bob. A very determined jawline. A nose that had clearly seen the losing side of several fist fights.
And yes. She was dressed in a red spandex bodysuit with a black and yellow belt around her waist and black vinyl knee-high boots.
He scoffed. “What kind of look are you going for, exactly? A reject Incredibles cosplay?”
She pulled out the holy water bottle. “I wonder. What would happen if I poured this whole bottle into your ear? Surprisingly enough, I’ve never done that to a vampire before.” She unscrewed the cap. “This should be interesting.”
His heart raced uncomfortably fast as she set the cap on the ground. “Yes. And I’m sure your bosses will be thrilled, completely thrilled to have a deaf and brain addled vampire for their exhibit.”
She looked down at him.
“The entertainment value from that sort of thing would be priceless. Ticket sales will just break all records.” He smirked. “I wonder how they will reward you for damaging me.”
She recapped the bottle and put it away.
His heart rate calmed down.
Then, the twelve-thirty traffic rush hurried onto the scene. Cars whooped around the corner, blaring their horns. One driver took the time to shout, “Hey, lady! Take your darn drama club show somewhere else.” before whooshing off into the distance.
She huffed. “Some people are so inconsiderate. This is a neighborhood.”
Fifteen more cars sped past them.
“Just so you know, I am not comfortable with this situation. We should get off the street and out of the sun.”
“You look heavy.” She sighed. “Too heavy for me to drag around. Rats.” She unsnapped a pocket on her right boot and pulled out what looked like a flat bandage.
Ambrose tried again to move, but his body was still in full non-cooperative mode. “What is that? What are you going to do?”
“Shut up, vampire.” She grabbed his hair and pulled his head off the ground. She slapped the item on his open wound and smoothed it down.
He gasped as sensation returned to his body.
“It isn’t like me to create antidotes for vampires, but sometimes you just need one.”
He wobbled up to his feet. And promptly vomited in hard, gut-wrenching spasms.
“Unfortunately, the antidote for holy water paralysis has that side effect. But it will wear off in a few minutes.”
He wiped the blood-tinged vomit off his mouth. My hand feels so warm. Too warm. Too tired. Warm.
She took hold of his arm and guided him to her clunker. She opened the front passenger door and shoved him in.
He shook his head.
What am I doing here?
She’s going to take me away.
She’s going to take me back there.
I can’t go back there.
Her keys hung in the ignition.
She strolled behind the car.
He scooted over and turned the key.
The engine karrumphed to life.
“Hey!” She ran to the driver’s side door.
He stomped down on both pedals. The engine roared, but otherwise nothing happened. “Ahh. What am I doing wrong?”
She swung the door open. “Get back to—”
He grabbed the door and slammed it shut.
His right foot accidently slid off the long narrow pedal.
The car vroooshed forward and killed the nearest mailbox and headed for the nearest parked car.
Ambrose frantically rotated the steering wheel, which turned the car into the opposite direction.
Into oncoming traffic.
He swerved out of the way and killed another mailbox, Mr. Gringer’s prized collection of frost-proof dahlias, little Sally McGregor’s bright red tricycle, and left tire tracks across seven yards before making it out onto the main road.