Slayed (9 page)

“I’ve been told it’s possible for them to shape-shift but
I’ve never seen it happen. It could be only the really old ones can do it.”

She smirks. “So you’re admitting you don’t know everything about vampires?”

“Kiki, we’re cutting the heads off.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s next?”

“For this job we had to split the houses to be cleaned with the Harkers—that’s that Tyler guy you met in the parking lot and his whack-job father. The police divvied up the houses believed to have vampires in them and we each have our own lists. There’s been a large migration of vampires into the area recently, so at night we’ll patrol the downtown area for vamps looking for dinner and preying upon the kindness of strangers in hopes of getting invited into a home.”

“So they have to be invited in?”

“Yup.”

“Must be invited in,” she says as she writes it down.

“These roaming vamps are up for grabs, and any one you kill counts for Team Van Helsing.”

“Wait, if I kill one, why don’t
I
get to keep the money?”

“Because you’re my apprentice.”

“Fine, it’s not like I need it anyway.”

“Must be nice,” I say under my breath. I drag a duffel bag out of the closet and heft it on to my bed. “Let’s load
up.” I unzip it and reveal my supply of stakes and garlic. “We have a skeleton key that will open just about any lock, but we have to be careful once we enter a house because there’s no telling where the vampire might be resting—or waiting. You need to be on high alert. New vampires are a little blood-crazed and since the vampire phenomena in town is recent, it’s likely there will be a lot of newbies. On the plus side, ninety percent of the time they’re zonked out during the day and you can just walk in and stake them before they even know what’s going on.”

“What about the other ten percent of the time?”

“They jump out and scare the crap out of you and
then
you stake them.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like things jumping out at me.”

“No one does. The other thing you need to know is you have to apply
a lot
of pressure to get the stake to penetrate the rib cage. It’s a lot harder than it looks and you really have to put some muscle in it and puncture the heart.”

She sits up straight with a look of resolve on her face. “Will do!”

I look around the room. “I wish we had something you could practice on. My parents used to have me train on watermelons. I guess it doesn’t matter since I’ll be doing all the staking today anyway.”

She gives me a pouty look. “Fine,” I say, “if we come across a really easy job I’ll let you have a crack at it.”

She pumps a fist in the air. “Yay!”

My lip curls up in disgust. She’s way too cheery about the whole thing. I push up a pant leg and strap on my knife and sheath.

Her eyes widen as she watches me. “Ooooh—I need one of those. It’s very assassin-chic. I’ll have to look for something like that online.”

I want to tell her not to bother since she’ll probably quit after the first house, but I keep my mouth shut. “Let me call my parents to let them know we’re heading out. They’ll hunt together and we’ll check in after each house cleaning. Are you ready?”

She grins crazily. “This is going to be so awesome!”

“I was thinking we could go
back to my place afterward,” Kiki says as we trek down the dirt road in the woods. “I found some great pants that I think would be good for hunting and want your opinion. They’re kind of a yoga-pants style for freedom of movement but made of tougher material.”

“Hey, there it is, through the trees.” I point to a log cabin–styled vacation home. It’s perched on a small piece of land jutting out into the Damariscotta River. Fog is rolling across the surface of the water buoyed along by the cool breeze that carries the smell of pine and salt water.

When I was little I used to ask my parents if we could
stop at a Christmas tree stand every December just so I could walk around and smell the pines. I would “pick out” which tree I wanted and imagine bringing home and decorating it. One year Dad bought a small, plastic tree with blinking lights for our hotel room and couldn’t understand why I was disappointed.

I turn to Kiki and realize she’s staring at the cabin like it’s a ghost.

“Come on, let’s get our stakes out.” I unzip my bag and take out a stake while we make our way across a short wooden bridge traversing a tidal stream.

Kiki nods and pulls one out of her purse, but doesn’t say anything.

I stumble on a root and she reaches out a hand to steady me.

“Thanks.” I smile, but she doesn’t notice—her eyes are fixed on our goal.

“Maybe we should’ve brought my bodyguard,” she says quietly.

It’s a pretty bumpy road, with rocks and tree roots exposed from spring washouts. Sam offered to come with us when he determined the limo couldn’t negotiate the road, but Kiki insisted we could handle it ourselves.

After I assured him the risk during the daytime was extremely low, it didn’t take much to convince him to stay
put. As tough as Sam is, I’m guessing that he’s had his fill of vampires.

Traveling by limo is something I could totally get used to, though. We had the most amazing hot, toffee-flavored coffee, with pastries and fresh-squeezed juice set out for us on a little table. Kiki kept the music on shuffle and told me the names of each of the bands, and I thoroughly enjoyed the break from the all-news stations my parents like to listen to. We kept the skylight open even though it’s still chilly, and I felt like a movie star instead of the loser slayer that I am.

I glance at Kiki. It’s weird having her so quiet—so un-Kiki-like. She was very chatty on the ride over. She told me stories about working on The Disco Unicorn set and how one time she defiled a whole carton of Sugar LeBlanc action figures by drawing nipples and pubic hair on the naked dolls. She then redressed them and they were then given out at a charity concert. We’d both laughed as she mimicked the PR guy running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to calm the angry parents and write a plausible press release that wouldn’t tarnish the Disco Unicorn’s reputation.

Now she’s walking slowly with grim determination; her mouth is pinched and her nostrils are flaring. I imagine the reality—and sheer foolishness—of voluntarily going after vampires has started to sink in.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her.

She licks her lips—her eyes still locked on the cabin. “I’m good,” she says in a voice an octave higher than normal.

She’s looking a little pale, and it’s tempting to tease her, but I decide to give her a break. Even though I’ve done this hundreds of times, the adrenaline is already coursing through my system and I had to choke down a few antacids before we got out of the limo. Even in the daylight, walking into a dark house knowing there’s something that would love to rip your throat out is more than a little disconcerting.

It’s actually kind of comforting having Kiki here. I used to hunt with Mom most of the time, but over the last year I’ve been going solo more often than not. Mom has a habit of running some incomprehensible dialog just under her breath whenever we’re casing out a house. She sounds like a crazy person and it makes it hard to focus.

We approach the cabin and I take it in. Each window is shuttered with plywood—probably done when the owners closed it up for the season—making for a cozy retreat for the undead. It’s fairly small, so hopefully it won’t take too long to flush out our vamp.

The front-door knob and lock have been ripped off, and I point to them lying in the pine needles to the right
of the steps. “That’s what usually tips the police off,” I say quietly. “If they know vampires are in the area they keep watch over empty houses like this for signs of entry.”

“I thought a vampire had to be invited in,” she whispers.

“It’s an empty house that isn’t a primary residence, so it’s fair game.”

Kiki’s eyes pop. “I’m staying at our vacation cottage. What if I come home and there’s a vampire in the hot tub?”

I almost laugh imagining a Speedo-clad vampire lounging in a hot tub sipping a literal Bloody Mary. “Do you consider your vacation house
home
?”

She purses her lips and nods. “It’s way homier than our place in Beverly Hills. I spend most of my time here anyways.”

“Then you’re good. A vampire would definitely have to be invited in.”

She visibly relaxes until I put a finger to my lips and tilt my head toward the door. She takes a deep breath and I see the hand holding her stake is shaking.

“Since we don’t need to use a key, I’m going to quietly push the door open. I don’t think we’ll have any problems, but follow closely behind and be prepared for
anything
. Do you have your flashlight?”

She nods ever so slightly, and takes a flashlight out of
her bag. There’s a greenish tinge to her skin and she looks like she’s about to throw up.

“If we’re lucky, the vampire will be in a deep sleeplike state and we can be back in the limo in no time,” I say reassuringly.

One corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to smile. I give her the thumbs-up, but figure Kiki Crusher’s vampire-slaying gig will be short-lived.

I take out a small but powerful flashlight and hold it in my left hand while I grip my stake with my right. I lean into the door and push on it gently with my shoulder. It creaks open and Kiki grimaces at the noise.

I step in the entryway, shining the light and illuminating sheet-covered furniture and a small kitchenette. Large, rough beams flank the two-story ceiling, giving the otherwise small cabin a cavernous feel. There’s only one main room with the kitchen and sitting area sharing the open floor plan. A staircase leads to an open loft I assume is the bedroom. There doesn’t appear to be a basement, which is fine by me. If I had to pick a house to clean with a wannabe slayer this would be the one, because there aren’t too many places to hide.

I wave behind my back and gesture for Kiki to follow. She comes in and glues herself to my side. I can feel her heart thudding against my shoulder.

“Anything?” she whispers breathlessly in my ear.

I shake my head and shine the light along the wall and see two closed doors—probably a bathroom and a closet. I take a few steps toward the doors and the sound echoes around us.

“I’m going to open the first door,” I whisper.

She nods.

I carefully make my way to the door, put my hand on the knob, and listen for any noise. I throw the door open, flashing the light inside and see it’s the bathroom with a dark curtain drawn across a tub—great. My heart pounds in my chest and I can hear my blood pumping fast in my ears. I can’t count the number of times we’ve found vamps lurking in the tub. It does make it easier to clean up the blood, but you never know if they’re lying in it or just waiting behind the curtain to get you.

I tread lightly over the tiles toward the tub—lavender-scented soap permeates the air and stings my nose. I take slow deep breaths to calm my heart, raise my stake, and pull back the curtain, poised to strike.

It’s empty.

“All clear,” I say in a hushed voice. I turn and Kiki isn’t behind me. My stomach feels like it’s been dropped fifty feet down a mine shaft. “Kiki?” I whisper desperately.

I rush out of the bathroom and see she’s standing just to
the side of the door sweeping her flashlight back and forth across the room. I exhale. “Oh, thank God! I thought …” It suddenly occurs to me how stupid this arrangement is. At the very least she should be with Mom and Dad so one of them could keep an eye on her. If something happens to her I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself.

“I was making sure nothing snuck up on you,” she says.

I shine the light at her and she blinks and shields her eyes. She looks a little calmer now and she actually smiles at me.

“Good thinking. Um, I’ll get the next door.” I turn around and go through the same routine, but it’s only a closet with a mop and broom and a few lightweight coats and rubber boots.

“Loft?” Kiki suggests.

“Stay down here.” I do one more sweep with my flashlight to make sure I haven’t missed anything. I direct the beam on the couches but it doesn’t appear anything is hiding under the sheets.

I point the light up the stairs and start up. Each creaky board gets my pulse racing again. It’ll be my head that pops up into the loft first and I’ve seen enough horror movies to know this is not a good thing. Picturing something cutting my head off and having it fall down the stairs and land at Kiki’s feet is not helping my nerves.

I pause just before I enter the loft and then race up the last few steps, stake ready. There’s a king-size platform bed stripped down to the bare mattress, two nightstands and a dresser against the far wall. I slowly walk to the other side of the bed but my guard is already down. There may have been a vampire here earlier, but it appears it’s moved on.

I walk to the rail and lean over and shine my flashlight at Kiki. “I hate to disappoint you, but this place is already clean.”

She laughs with relief. “Will it affect my street cred as a slayer if I admit I’m
totally
okay with that?”

“I won’t say a word.”

She lets out a long breath as she plops down on one of the covered couches and drops her stake on the coffee table with a clank. “Is it also okay to admit I thought I was going to pee in my pants? I don’t know how the hell you do this.” She turns her flashlight on and off waving it around the room like a strobe light. “You made it look so easy in the alley, but actually going into a home and opening closed doors …” She visibly shivers. “This is crazy shit.”

Bingo. “Are you trying to tell me you want to give up vampire hunting?”

“I don’t know. After seeing what that vampire was
doing to Sam—what it could’ve done to me—and then having you out of the blue save us, well, I thought I’d found my calling. I’ve had so many ‘callings’ since I quit the band, and none of them have panned out. My therapist says I lost my way after my parents replaced me on their TV show. But after I stopped being a backup dancer I tried …” Suddenly Kiki stops turning the light on and off and focuses the beam above my head. Her eyes widen. “Daphne—on the ceiling …”