Night Prayers (2 page)

"Yeah, right — hah, hah. But how did you get dressed like…" Allison's brain finally caught up with her mouth. "What do you mean it's been fun? I'm going with you."

"Hell no." Seth sat down on the edge of the bed and began tucking his jeans into the tops of his boots. "We had our fun — now we can go spread it around."

"Spread it around?"

Another series of tingles tip-toed up Allison's spine. This time, they had nothing to do with Seth's clogged-drain chuckling. "But I mean…"
What DO I mean
? "… I mean — in all the movies, the Head… you know… Vampire always has this army of the undead around him. You know?"

Seth leaned over his knees and shook his head at her.

"Damn girl, you really didn't have no life, did you? Here's a hint," he said. "Movies
ain't
real."

Like this is
, Allison thought as she hugged her knees tightly against her chest. "Are there any… others like us out there?"

"Suppose so." Seth smiled at her as he stood up, fangs still fully extended. For effect. "But I wouldn't try to find 'em, if I were you. A group of
anything
makes a better target. If you don't believe me just go ask the Jews or Blacks or American Indians. Hang out with your own kind long enough and, one day, somebody'll notice… and take it into their tiny little minds to do somethin' about it."

"First thing you gotta learn is that there's safety in numbers… and that number's
one
."

Seth clapped at his own wit as he took a step toward her.

"Second thing is the '
wither thou goest'
shit just don't work for our kind."

He blew her a kiss and winked. "You were one hell of a fine feed, babe."

His outline slowly began to dissolve, blending with the dark and becoming part of it. When he spoke again his voice was as empty as the wind.

Just stop believin' everything you see in the movies, okay? Be seein' ya.

Then he was gone.

And she was alone.

Again.

Allison relaxed her grip and leaned back against the wall.

Alone.

For all eternity.

Empty.

Shit, I'm hungry.

It
was the hunger that drove her back to the
Silver Concho Saloon
.

Back to the old hunting grounds. But tonight
she
was the hunter.

Sitting in one of the bar's secluded booths, Allison ran a finger down the dripping side of the first of a three-drink minimum and watched the action taking place in front of her. Sometimes subtle
— mostly overt: Eyes studied potential bed partners for any outward appearance of disease, lips smiled veiled invitations, perfect breasts spoke of fantasies fulfilled. A woman in tight jeans and off-the-shoulder blouse walked past two men in business suits, tossing her bleached curls and pointedly ignoring them.

It was pitiful.

But it did give the term "meat market" a whole new meaning.

Smiling, Allison lifted her glass and saluted the room indiscriminately.

Someone across the room returned the salute.

And all the bravado she'd worked on since leaving (
forcing
herself to leave) the motel room vanished.

Shit… it was real.

Allison picked up her drink and stared at the lime curl floating across the top of the tequila.

The whole purpose of her existence now was to attract men and suck them dry. Pretty much the same goal she'd had since high school.

She smiled and shook her head. Seth was right… things
weren't
any different.

"If there's anything
purdier
than a beautiful woman laughin' I don't know what it might be."

Allison could smell the blood flowing in his veins — warm and tantalizing — as she looked up… slowly… letting her eyes drift past the crisp, indigo jeans, up to the real silver belt buckle and matching beer gut, then following the braided leather bolo tie to the crooked smile, ruddy cheeks and blood shot eyes.

As a Vampire she was supposed to have the seductive powers of a bitch in heat… and
this
is what it got her? The Pillsbury Doughboy version of the Marlboro Man?

Her stomach rumbled its approval.

Din-din.

Allison swallowed the saliva filling her mouth and remembered to smile as he slid into the booth next to her.

"Hope y'all don't mind." He was making sure she noticed the
real west
twang in his voice. It was the same thing Seth had done. "But I just couldn't stand seein' such a
purdy
young thing sittin' all by herself. Didn't seem right. Name's Buck."

Buck.

Allison took the pudgy dough-boy hand and squeezed it gently.

"Wooo-WEEE, little lady, you're hand's as cold as ice!" He lifted her hand to his lips and blew warm air across her fingers. "But like they say, cold hands mean a warm heart. Ain't that right?"

She pulled her hand back and brought him along for the ride.

"You wouldn't believe
how
warm… Buck."

Just to make sure he wouldn't misunderstand her intentions, Allison ran the tip of her tongue lazily across her top lip. She could hear the front of his brand new jeans creak under the pressure of his stiffening cock.
That
hadn't changed either.

Her new position on the food chain just made it more interesting.

Somewhat.

Her stomach snarled loud enough for
Buck
to notice.

"Whoa, you sound hungry."

"Starving."

Pressing in close, Allison arched her back so her intended dinner… companion… could see she wasn't wearing a bra beneath the loose fitting silk blouse.

"You're fucking gorgeous!"

"Sweet talker," she purred, nuzzling his ear, then licking off the drool she left behind. The scent of blood overpowered the Brute aftershave he'd apparently taken a bath in.

Allison nudged him gently in the ribs and told herself she was only asking the next question because it prolonged the delicious cat-and-mouse game.

"You really think I'm… pretty?"

Really miss not being able to see yourself in the old looking-glass, don't you, kid?

"Ma'am… you're about the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Happy now?

Smiling, Allison tossed her short, layered cut hair and wished she had let it grow out
— one last sweeping mane of auburn before the grey started to come in.

An instant later, heavy curls cascaded down past her shoulders.

"What the
hell
?" Allison gasped.

Allison pulled a handful of hair out in front of her eyes and stared at it, open mouthed. It was the color of autumn leaves at sunset, as thick and long as it'd been her first year in college… right before she got sick and tired of fussing with it and had it cut.

All she'd done was think about letting her hair grow and…

Another inch sluiced through her fingers.

Shit.

"Oh, yeah. That's better."

Allison forced her mouth closed and blinked
Buck
into view.

"Pardon?"

"I'm real glad you let your hair down," he said. "I just love long hair."

Allison tossed her head again. This time the hair swept her face dramatically. Was that how it worked? You just thought of something?

Smiling, Allison hooked a finger into the front of her blouse and watched melons bloom from nectarines.

Now
this
had possibilities.

Inflating her lungs without needing to breathe took some doing, but the effect was worth it.
Buck
was drooling almost as much as she was.

"Damn."

You're so right.

Looking up at him through her lashes, Allison ran a blood red fingernail along his double-stitched inseam until she came to the hard obstruction between his legs. She could feel him quiver from the inside out.

"You know, I never did introduce myself." She pouted. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it? My name's Allison… Buck."

"I — I always loved that name," he said, swallowing hard enough to make the concho-slide jump. "In fact, I knew this girl in high school named Allison. She gave great head."

Allison cupped his erection gently and fought the urge to rip it off and hand it to him
— still hard and dripping.

"Well, maybe we should go someplace a little more private and see if
I
measure up."
You disgusting, fat-assed son of a bitch
.

Buck licked his lips while her stomach growled again.

"I'm just
so
hungry," she whispered, sliding a finger down toward his ass. "And I bet you'd be able to fill me up in no time." "Jesus Ch—"

"-rist into the desert and tempted Him with the riches of the world if… and this is the important part, brothers and sisters… if He, the only begotten Son of God, would bow down and pay the devil his due.

"But He didn't do it! He told Satan to get lost. He put the devil behind him and that's what you've all got to do! You've got to throw the devil and his ways out of your hearts and let Jesus in! That's the only way. And that way is
up
! Praise the Lord!"

Panting, Mica Poke clasped the tattered Bible to his chest and felt his heart pump through the well worn pages. It was a hot night, following hard on the heels of a blistering day, but Mica knew Hell was hotter. Knew it and had to make sure others did as well.

It was his job.

Had been for a long time.

He was MICA… Chosen Preacher to the People.

One of whom yawned loudly and scratched himself.

A drop of sweat — 25% humidity, 75% divine perspiration — trickled down inside Mica's "I'd rather be Praying" tee-shirt as he took a deep breath of exhaust fumes and raised his hands toward the urban-lit night sky.

"Lord… it's me again. Mica. Lord, look down on these, the weakest of Your children and give them the strength to push their own devils behind them. Times are hard, Lord, we all know that. Shit, it's hard enough to take the polish off a Saint's halo, but I'm hard, too, Lord… as hard as the name you gave me."

Mica looked down at his transient congregation and felt his heart swell. The light from the drug store behind him illuminated dozens of people. Of course, most of them
— being tourists — thought what he was doing was just part of the Hollywood night life. Diagonally across from his corner a man in a long, flowing black gown was captivating
his
audience with the joys of Satanic worship and animal sacrifice.