abruptly stopped goatee man from finishing his thought. “Enough, Ambrose. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, but who’ll fill up another bag?” he spat.
“It’s too late to round up volunteers. Most everyone’s asleep. The little idiot will have to fill it up.”
Poe’s eyes widened then squinted narrowly like Dirty Harry himself. There’s no way any of these leeches, these traitors, are going to draw my blood without a fight! Poe unhooked the scissors from her belt, baring her teeth. She had a nasty feeling that jeet kune do would be needed this evening.
Like mist taking shape, a figure appeared next to her elbow. Poe pointed the scissors at the form, ready 110
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to stab the dull blade into its heart. The grin on the figure’s face, however, confused and disoriented her.
There stood Joseph, wearing nothing but the dastardly leather pants that seemed to be two sizes too small, shaking his head at her.
“Sorry. No one’s going to touch the Little Miss this evening. Boss’ orders,” he beamed, sounding extremely amused.
Ambrose, seething emphatically, barked, “Well I’m not giving any more blood tonight!”
“Hmm. But I don’t think we’ve met before,”
commented Joseph with a yogi smile.
“No, but I’ve seen you around,” Ambrose snorted disparagingly. “Can’t miss the glaring dragon on your naked back.”
“You’re new, I guess,” Joseph laughed with him, imitating Ambrose’s donkey snort. “Otherwise you’d know not to speak snarky to me. I’m the boss’ best pal.”
“So does that mean I can’t tell you to fuck off?”
Ambrose retorted without fear.
“Sure you can, but I’m liable to misbehave and trip accidentally on your jugular.”
The pear-shaped woman in her early forties smoothed down her yo-yo pajama top and stared warily at Poe. “I’ll do it. I haven’t done it for a while anyway.”
“Thank you, Perla.” Joseph gave the woman’s shoulder a squeeze. “We really appreciate it.”
At this, Perla looked miffed and more than a little annoyed. She mussed the vampire’s soft, shoulder length hair and pushed him away. “You better get out of here, Joe, before I change my mind.” She looked at Poe again, this time with a hint of amusement. “And take the barefoot contessa with you before I let her stab Ambrose’s neck with those rickety scissors.”
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(((
“What a dick,” Poe mumbled as she left the lab.
But a vexing internal voice laughed pitilessly at her righteous anger. The voice grew in volume, contemptuously telling Poe, You’re only pissed at Ambrose because he acted more human than you.
Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Poe resented the older humans in the lab. They didn’t have to spend their lives underground and alone like they were already dead. They didn’t stutter or suffer countless phobias.
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself,” said Joseph, startling Poe. “You got away clean.”
“I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself!”
He threw her a knowing look to say, “Yeah, right.”
“They were jerks. That’s all.”
Joseph stayed silent, but a smile lingered and riled Poe’s injured pride. She kept her mouth shut, nevertheless, knowing she would seem petulant and childish in whatever form her answers took. She changed the subject.
“What were those clear liquid things?” she asked, not really expecting an answer from Sainvire’s buddy.
His half-naked, tattooed back and chest grated on her nerves. His bare feet reminded her too much of her Adidas-free feet, blood splotched and all. She especially couldn’t handle his leather pants; they were simply too Beach Blanket Bimbo with too much cowhide for her. She knew that leather was the way to go in vampire literature and movies, but it grossed the living crap out of her.
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“Genetically engineered plasma, saline, some funky fungal bacteria, a drop of blood, and a couple of other refined proteins I can’t pronounce.”
“What’re they for?”
“Grub.” Joseph let her pass before him up the escalator, following closely behind.
“What do you–”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he interrupted, nodding his head and smiling politely. “I heard that you stutter. Why aren’t you now?”
“You don’t make me nervous. Your classy cow skin pants don’t scare me.”
Joseph guffawed heartily. It was no wonder Perla, the nice woman in yo-yo pajamas, treated him like a regular, likeable human. He knew how to take a slam.
Despite herself, Poe smiled at the vampire’s contagious laughter. She missed Sister Ann’s unholy laugh and Goss’ hilarious snorting giggle fits.
“Seriously, Joseph,” Poe said, catching the quick sobering of the merry vampire’s visage as if he expected another iffy question that wasn’t for him to answer. “Are you Chinese?”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, his eyes full of mischief.