Seventh Seal - Jacquelyn Faye Page 0,27

one of ours. Does everyone understand?"

The vampires nodded while Franco screamed.

Standing, I eyed the scythe in my hand. "So shall it be." I lifted the butt of the handle off the floor and brought it back down, a little softer than before. A resounding clang resonated through the mall, but the tile didn't shatter.

I wasn't dumb enough to try to kill a vampire with a giant scythe while two innocents were holding him between them. Plus, the punishment wouldn't have fit the crime. Instead, I walked over to the zombie in the fountain. "Have your revenge, child. Feast upon the flesh of your killer. Tear him apart."

There was a flare of black fire in her eyes that made me shudder and step back as she scrambled out of the water and strode slowly toward the pleading, shaking vampire. Once she was upon him, the two guards let him go. All of us watched thoughtfully as she did as she was told, ripping off limbs, tearing through the soft flesh of his belly and neck, and finally tearing his still screaming head from the stump of his torso. As soon as it was free, he turned to ash.

She stood and flashed the barest of smiles at me, and the light faded from her eyes. Whatever spark of intelligence that was her, was gone. She was just an animated corpse once again.

"Rest," I whispered and doused her in black flame.

The tile floor beneath her rippled and popped as the concrete parted. The dirt below rose to swallow her into the earth. When she was gone, everything melded back into place without so much as a broken tile to show for it.

"That was fucking sick," one of the younger vamps whispered.

"He tore out her throat, she tore him a new one," I answered by way of explanation.

"No, Lady Blackwell. I don't mean sick as in disgusting. I meant that was the coolest thing I've ever seen."

"Pray that you never see it again," Damien whispered solemnly.

Chapter 8

It was another sleepless night. Finally, around five in the morning, I lightly dozed off. By six, I was awake again, Chief sleeping on his back beside me, snoring loudly. I reached behind me to smack him in the side, missed, and his impressive cock sprang back and forth like one of those doorstop thingies that go waga-waga-waga when you whack them.

Rolling over, I stared in rapt fascination as it stopped and throbbed. "Jeezus."

Chuckling softly to myself, I reached over and encircled it with my fist, letting my fingers slide up and down its silky smoothness.

Chief's snoring stopped as he opened his eyes and blinked before looking down at my hand slowly jerking him awake. His smile was heart, and other place, warming. "Morning."

"Wood." I grinned.

"You seem to like the model. Would you care to take it for a test drive, Miss?"

"Do you have the keys?"

"I do believe the engine is running."

"I don't know. Looks like it might be a little too big for me to handle."

"I'm sure a pretty little thing like you can get the most out of it."

"Is it automatic?"

"Manual. Be careful shifting gears, it has a tendency to leak oil."

I started laughing.

"What? I thought I was on fleek with my innuendo."

"Just had a tranny fluid joke pop into my head. Don't mind me," I said between fits of laughter.

"Oh, please. I'd look horrible in a dress."

"No. Not horrible. Just manly."

"Glad you think so." He smiled and rolled me over on top of him, trapping his throbbing rod between us. Crossing my arms over his chest, I rested my chin on my wrists and smiled at him.

"This is nice."

"Waking up next to someone?"

He knew exactly what I was thinking. I nodded.

"Yeah. Sleeping alone sucks."

"Could do without the snoring, but yes. It is nice."

"Don't be silly, Dot. You don't snore that loudly."

I leaned over and bit him on the chest. "Care to take that back," I said with his flesh between my teeth.

He laughed, put his hands under my arms, and pulled me up a little further on his chest. Close enough for him to kiss me. "Sorry about the chainsaws," he said apologetically as he pulled away.

"You weren't that loud. Kind of like thunder. Chief Rumblechest."

"You fart."

"Do not."

"And you drool a little."

"Only when you're sleeping naked," I answered.

"And you're awfully hot."

"Says the ceramic heater in my bed." It was no joke. Even in the summertime, I slept under the comforter most nights. I had a nagging suspicion that Chief was powered by a thermonuclear reactor.