So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 7.4 - Accept My Sacrifice

We were all staring at the black pieces of metal

(crossbow bolts)

that had made a sudden appearance in Frankie's chest, the blood only just beginning to spread as Frankie's body realized what had happened to it, way before we did. It was just something that we didn't expect to happen, so you can forgive our slow reactions. At least with a gunshot, there is the loud BLAM that lets you know you're under attacked, but there had only been the slightly wet thump, thump... thump as the bolts had hit his chest, so there had really been nothing to react to. It was like a magic trick, just a really bad one.

I found myself turning in the only direction the bolts could have come from—

The woman with the awesome coat was running directly at us, reaching into her coat. What looked like a fucked-up marriage between a machine gun and a miniature crossbow, dropped to the pavement at her feet, the snow dusting outward from where its black shape landed rather solidly.

The woman's hands came out from her coat, and my first thought was that she had been watching too many Kate Beckinsale vampire movies. My first thought really should have been more along the lines of "Holy shit, those are knives! She's throwing knives at me!", but at this point, we all know how fucked up my brain is.

Priorities, right?

I should have wondered why the knives suddenly seemed to be going in slow-motion, but I was already familiar with the surge of adrenaline that came from my fangs clicking into place. It was the type of adrenaline that pushed my brain and body into overdrive, allowing me to move and to react faster than normal human speed. To anyone watching, I would have just become a blur of movement, but to me it was like being in a scene from the movie the Matrix, except instead of "bullet-time" this was "vampire time."

I watched the knives sliced through the air, one slamming solidly into Frankie's chest, causing him to cough up a spray of blood even as he slowly slumped backward. The other knife caught Natalie right in the throat, and her hands flew up to the blade, the surprised look on her face saying everything that I was thinking. What I was thinking happened to be a long stream of "Ohshitohshitohshit—" so that totally fit the moment.

I turned back to face Not-Kate-Beckinsale, ready to fight this bitch who was hurting my friends and came face to face with problem number one.

Problem number one happened to be that Not-Kate-Beckinsale was moving at what could be considered normal speed and even then she was faster than I was, like super-fucking-fast, and was that actually a sword she was pulling out? Holy shitballs: it totally was!

Her coat billowed out behind her in a way that was way too dramatic, and I noticed then that even though the wind was catching her hood, it wasn't pulling back to reveal her face. In fact, there appeared to be some kind of black mask that covered the lower half of her face, and the hood of the coat was somehow attached to that. Total Assassin's Creed cosplay, especially with the coat doing its thing like it was.

And that was the moment I met problem number two.

Remember that Salt Gun that Claude had shot at me? Well, the memory of that gun was still firmly planted in my head, so when Not-Kate-Beckinsale's other hand produced a matte-black Salt Gun, I instantly recognized it for what it was.

The gun levelled at my head, and I twitched reflexively as she squeezed the trigger, and the little plastic ball filled with pepper shot out. I somehow managed to spin out of the way, avoiding an explosion of pepper right in the face, but even as I spun around, there was the blade of that fucking sword slicing at my face--

I dropped like a rock, and the blade sliced past and then turned for a when I knew was going to be a downward stab. I didn't stick around to find out. I rolled toward my attacker, desperate to be on my feet again—

The Salt Gun was pointed right at my face—

"How many have you killed?" Not-Kate-Beckinsale yelled at me; the mack muffled her voice, but she was definitely angry.

The question and the fact that I had not been shot, threw me for a bit of a loop, so of course I answered in the age-old manner of confusion.

"What?"

She casually raised the gun in the direction of my friends—

I glanced over to where Benjamin was desperately trying to help Natalie. Blood covered everything, and I do mean everything. The knife was out of her throat, but she was flailing, struggling to bleed, hands clamped on her throat to try to stop the blood. Benjamin was just covered, almost head to toe in her blood. A blood-covered Stanley was vainly trying to help Frankie pull the knife from his chest, but Frankie wasn't helping as he screamed and fought every attempt.

BLAT! BLAT!

Stanley took a pepper ball to the chest, and Benjamin got hit right in the side of the head. There was a moment of confusion, and then the violent choking and coughing started from all four of them. Stanley was so shocked that he had managed to finally pull the knife from Frankie's chest in the few seconds before the pepper spray overwhelmed his senses.

It took only an instant, but then the gun was centred onto my face again. I forced myself to focus on the danger in front of me, kidding myself that I could somehow still walk away from this and help my friends.

"Answer me or the next one goes right in your mouth."

"Nobody! I haven't killed anybody!"

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes! Yes! Believe me!"

"But you're with Beatrice—"

"It's just sex! I swear!" I considered. "Weird, dirty and really loud sex, but sex is all it is!"

Not-Kate-Beckinsale shoved the Salt Gun into my face harder than was strictly necessary. Across the parking lot, I could hear someone puking violently.

"Find a new girlfriend before it kills you," she hissed. "This is your only warning."

"Why the hell do you even care?" I asked, and then a possibility occurred to me. "You're not like a jealous ex-girlfriend of hers or something are you?"

The blue eyes looking down at me from behind the gun narrowed and then rolled.

"Fuck it," she said.

"Wait!"

Too late: She shot me.

For a while, the world was made of nothing but pain.