The Vampire Always Bites Twice | Wattys 2022 Grand Prize Winner

46

This chapter contains mature and violent content. 

Greg, Always Liked Cats

I'm an idiot. A moron. A thousand times damned fool. Hell itself should just open up and take me already. Welcome me home. I deserved it.

A silver chain, no thicker than a necklace, seared into my throat. It was agony. Cutting and cauterizing all it once. Held taunt by a gloved werewolf snarling into my ear. I so much as twitched the chain cut into muscle. The acrid burning of my flesh perfumed the air.

And yet it was nothing compared to how deeply the fear in Isla's eyes cut me.

One of the mutts pinned her against the brick wall by her neck. She was still. Chin out and defiant. But she was scared and cold. I could sense her pulse. See the way she struggled to keep the shivers at bay. A half-burned cigarette trembled between her fingers.

Cabroni kicked the knife. It skittered down the ice, vanishing from my sight. "Should watch where you point that thing."

"Let her go," I rasped.

The chain sliced deeper. I gritted my remaining teeth and swallowed a grunt.

"Nah," growled Cabroni. He snatched Isla's fallen purse from the ground. "Let us least collect our cash, yeah? Then we can talk. You just sit tight."

He barked at his crony.

Isla gasped. The ugly, growling, slimeball of a wolf pressed his claws into her throat. Her beautiful throat that I nearly ruined. Her pulse beat frantic under his nails. They rested just shy of puncturing.

"We seem to get over our cuts quicker than you. Sick," Cabroni flexed his leg, jeans ripped and stained with blood, but flesh beneath smooth as a puppy's bottom. My face, however, remained bruised and battered. One of my eyes was swelling shut, which was nonsensical and annoying given my all-around lack of blood flow. "But how long you think it'll take you to get over us making the Madame the new pack bitch? All Denise wants is her money. Hate to ruin your date night over it."

"Ew!" She spat. "We do not have that kind of relationship, man."

"A bluff," I said weakly. "You can't turn anyone outside a full moon."

"You want I test it?" snickered the crony. "Cause if you're right, she just going to die."

"Down boy," said Isla.

But his threat was clear. I move, Isla gets hurt.

Cabroni, a deep scowl set in his beard, riffled through her purse without much more conversation. Tossed aside lipstick and her phone. A tiny wallet. Tampons. Subway tokens. A scrunchie. Another lipstick. Pack of cigarettes and her lighter. All these trinkets hit the ground with little grunts and whines from Isla.

The wolf found the envelope. Tore it open. A wad of beer-stained cash fell neatly into his hand. As he counted, Cabroni fanned out the bills, a stack of hundreds, waving Isla's cigarette smoke cloud back into her own eyes.

"Alright, you got what you came for," I said, gingerly testing the other dog's hold on my throat. It was tight. Fangs, that hurt. My skin peeled away in sizzling flakes. As they wafted like dust into the wind, I noticed a tiny medallion hung from the chain, dangling in my peripheral vision. Some kind of saint. Maybe a Pack emblem? Couldn't see it clearly, but the other mutt, the one holding Isla, he also wore a pendant. Cabroni was lacking in jewelry. "Let's call it even and split, huh?"

Cabroni growled. Low and menacing. He tucked Isla's payment into a back pocket. "You undead bloodsuckers should learn to stay in the ground and mind your own business."