chicken. Poe couldn’t help it. Tears of frustration ran down her bloody face.
“What are you doing running with these fuckers?”
Poe asked the pretty black cop with catwalk cheek bones. “They hate minorities like us!”
“Hey, don’t start generalizing,” Pengle answered for the police officer. “Quillon Trench only hates the ugly, unlike his mildewed counterparts. They think they come from that fictional motherfucker Dracula’s bloodline,” he continued. His predatory stride made Poe gulp nervously.
“Oh yeah? If that was true,” Poe said with a grimace. “Then why’s an ugly guy like you not in the pit incinerating dead food? Better yet, why aren’t you wiping cattle ass right about now?”
Pengle reminded her of Han, the old villain in Enter the Dragon who almost made processed opium out of Bruce Lee’s butt. He had a hard time controlling his temper. “Babies, feed now!” he ordered.
In a breath, all three babies clambered on the clothed part of her, pawing and biting where no sign of garlic spray could be detected. Tiny incisors pricked Poe’s thighs and legs.
“Get off, you demonic kewpie dolls!” she screamed, having a hell of a time prying off the critters from her limbs. It’s like they’re crazy-glued!
“What? Are you praying, Julia?” Han number two taunted. “And lookit, she’s really crying now!”
Poe’s lopped ear tingled, a definite harbinger for further bad news. There was no Sainvire to pop out of nowhere or a Maple to bludgeon them to kingdom come. What a time to start bawling. Her heart pounded like canons. She didn’t want to join the cattle herd, and she’d been bit multiple times already.
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“This here’s the girl that gave you that iron hand?” someone asked, laughing. “She’s just a scrawny kid.”
“I know you didn’t just insult me, liver face,”
Pengle said, staring down the only vampire without a mustache.
“Nah, course not, Pengle. Just being stupid, I guess.”
Poe swallowed the disgusting taste of fear and ordered herself to get a grip. The vamps were distracted. I’m not leaving this earth fighting, not crying and begging!
On the Japanese count of three, Poe pulled out a smallish knife sheathed behind her back and began committing infanticide with the devilbabes. Each stab was fatal for the blade was slick with garlic oil. The sweet moment was spoiled by all the kelpie squeals.
“She’s killing ’em!”
“I have a clear shot, boss.”
“If anyone’s gonna do damage to that bitch, it’s gonna be me,” Pengle shouted above the ruckus to his remaining sidekicks. “She’s mine!”
Poe pushed the demonic Garbage Pail Kids off of her as she crawled from the doorless car.
“Let’s go, Pengle!” Poe yelled, tears still streaming down her face. Quit crying, stupid! It’s embarrassing! “You and me, Clint Eastwood style.
Let’s get it over with.”
Pengle looked over the girl and her pathetic little knife. He reached down his oversized cowboy boots and procured an eight-inch Bowie knife.
Poe rolled her eyes to the heavens. As a last resort she launched her own puny knife, tagging Pengle square in the heart. Unfortunately the blade, impeded by the vamp’s wool clothing, didn’t go deep enough to kill, and most of the garlic oil had rubbed off on the 252
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babyvamps. The slit of an injury itched more than anything.
“Unbelievable!” he growled at the girl who had made him a lefty, pulling out the wimpy knife and flinging it to the floor. “You’re begging for a skinning!”
“Now you’re going to get it!” chimed the mustacheless vamp associate, chuckling darkly.
In a snap of movement, Pengle was on Poe, twisting a fistful of hair and yanking her head back so she could see his face. The palpably electric loathing in the vampire’s eyes left a rotten taste in her mouth.
“A whole lotta blood’s gushing outta my nose and eye, man. Either lick it up or clean it up ’cause they’re starting to bubble.” She had no idea what possessed her to keep goading the vampire. Better dead than bled, she thought.
Thinking his hand was still attached, he slapped her with the hook. “You think you’re a funny girl, dontcha?” Pengle hissed when Poe smiled. “Well how d’ya like this, baby doll?”
The hook caught on her shirt, puncturing the upper tier sinews of her right breast and came out of the fleshy middle. He dangled a stunned Poe a foot or so from the concrete.
“Jesus!” was the only word that came out of her mouth. The pain was so intense.
“How d’ya like them apples, eh?” he repeated, his triumphant face too close for comfort.
He yanked the hook higher, soliciting a scream from