The Nasty Vamp:The Dragos Clan 00(2)

By: Gail Koger

With my psychic senses I knew where every monster was. Bambi didn't have a clue. Jamming to her iPod, she was completely oblivious to the two Jay Z wannabe vamps shuffling after her. It was a wonder they could walk at all. Their baggy oversized pants hung half way down their rather hairy butts. Ewww.

I rubbed my suddenly aching head. Bambi had easy pickin’ stamped on her forehead. Sooner or later the twit was going to get me killed. Just like her last three Alfreds. Poor Hal hadn't even made it a week before an Elvis impersonator snapped his neck. You'd think that would raise some alarms but oh no. My aunt just shrugged it off.

Bambi's excuse? She only wanted his autograph. How was she supposed to know the King of Rock was a master vampire?

Hello? You're a vampire slayer.

Talk about clueless. I mean, c'mon. What kind of slayer repeatedly forgets to bring weapons to a vampire hunt? Or puts rhinestones on her stakes and then whines about how hard they are to hold onto?

The vamps suddenly jumped Bambi and dragged her down a dark alley. Instead of pulling out a stake and dusting them, the ditzy twit started screaming, “Bunny!”

For a long moment I considered letting them eat her. Hey, it would make my life a whole lot easier. I might even live to see twenty-five. Okay, there was the whole ethics thing. I had sworn an oath to protect and serve my slayer. The bitch was also my cousin and Aunt Tessa would disown me if I let anything happen to her little princess.

Another scream sounded from the alley.

Could I really stand by and watch them kill her? No, dammit, I couldn't. With a sigh, I gunned my black Ducati Streetfighter motorcycle and rode to the rescue, again.

I shot across the busy street, dodging cars and cursing pedestrians. I skidded to a stop in the alley and stared in amazement.

Bambi was shrieking like a demented banshee and waving one broken high heel at her attackers. “They're Jimmy Choos! Do you morons know how much they cost?”

Gawking at her wildly bobbing girls, the vampires shook their heads.

Bambi advanced on them. Step. Hop. Step. Hop. “Eight hundred and ninety-five dollars!”

I shook my head in disbelief. No matter what the species, show men your tits and they turned into brainless idiots.

The hip-hop wannabes had failed to notice that their pants were now wadded nicely around their ankles or that I was behind them, with my modified crossbow in hand.

Her face flushed with fury, my cousin shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot them!”

In a blur of movement, the vamps spun around, tripped over their pants and smashed face first into the grimy pavement.

Ouch! That had to hurt.

“Shoot them,” Bambi shrieked again.

Fangs extended, the vamps leapt at me. I quickly nailed them in the chest and watched as they disintegrated into dust. Nothing quite like arrows soaked in holy water to get the job done.

Bambi snarled, “What took you so long?”

My temper soaring, I countered with, “Where are your weapons?”

“In the car. They didn't match my outfit.”

“Are you truly that stupid or do you have a death wish?”

Bambi tucked her girls away and huffed, “You're just jealous because I look hot.”

“The vamps don't give a rat's ass about your outfit. They want to kill you.”

“They haven't succeeded now have they? Because I'm the best of the best and no one can beat my kill ratio. Mom thinks I'll make champion status.”

“Champion status? Get serious. What kill ratio are you talking about? You've killed one freakin’ vampire and a fledgling at that. The other kills are mine. Not yours.”

“Ha! Alfreds can't claim kills. So, they're mine.”

My right hand balled into a fist. Leave it to Bambi to flaunt my aunt's incredibly stupid rules. God, I wanted to pop her one. “Talking about kills, let's not forget in the last year you've gotten three of your Alfred's killed. I'm not going to be the fourth. The next time you leave your weapons behind, you're on your own. Do you hear me?”

“You can't do that!”

“Watch me.”

“I'm telling mom.”

“You do that.”

My senses screamed a warning. I shoved a stake into Bambi's hand, spun and fired my crossbow.

The vampire caught the bolt easily.

Oh hell, not good.

With a terrifying smile, the vampire hurled my bolt back.

Wham! The arrow slammed into my chest and the next thing I knew I was crashing into a wall. The wind knocked out of me, I struggled to pull the bolt from my armored vest.

Bambi squealed, “Bunny!”

I glanced over and gaped in surprise. She was actually fighting the vamp. Of course, her cat suit severely limited her movements and with only one shoe, her footwork consisted of hop, kick.

The vampire looked scarily like Michael Jackson. Maybe he wasn't buried in that Forest Lawn mausoleum after all. He swung one gloved fist at Bambi.

Also By Gail Koger

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