Slayed (8 page)

Tyler turns away, but I can see that his face registers a mix of embarrassment and sadness. He shakes his head and lets his hair cover his eyes.

I realize my original assessment was wrong. He’s not the jerk—I am. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone lumping me in the same category as my parents, especially Mom.

“Well, neither of our parents will be getting any awards for child-rearing,” I say. “And sorry I kind of bit your head off at the station last night.” I look down at the ground and kick at the fog. “It’s just that money’s tight and my mom was flipping out more than usual.” I look back up and notice him watching me through his hair. His light blue irises are rimmed with a darker blue. I realize we’re staring at each other and look away while butterflies flit around in my empty stomach.

“Sounds like you could be talking about my dad. Only when money is tight, we sleep in the car.”

As if on cue, a car horn blares and we both jump. Kiki is hanging out of the roof of a white limo that’s pulling into the parking lot. Her long blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and she’s wearing a pink hoodie far more modest than the revealing outfit she had on last night. “Daphne,” she yells. “Look!” She checks the lot for I don’t know what, and then starts laughing maniacally. She pulls out a hunting knife and waves it over her head.

“Whoa,” Tyler says. “Who is that?”

I can’t help but laugh and give Kiki the thumbs-up. “That would be Kiki Crusher—wannabe vampire slayer.”

Tyler looks at me in disbelief as the limo slowly circles the lot with Kiki slashing the air with the knife.

“Long story short, I’ve been assigned by the South
Bristol vampire task force to give her the 411 on all things undead.”

“She’s going to hurt someone with that knife,” he says, watching Kiki stab at the fog.

“That’s kind of the point” I giggle. “Pun intended. But you know after you stake ’em—off comes the head.”

He turns back to me. “Huh? Why would you do that?”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “You
don’t
?”

His gets a stupid smirk on face. It reminds me of his father, and my annoyance returns.

“No, I don’t,” he says, looking at me like I’m the crazy one. “But given what my dad said about your parents I’m not surprised they have you beheading
dead
vampires.” His smile broadens. “You either stake them or cut the head off—one or the other, babe.”

Babe?
I put a hand on one hip. “My
name
is Daphne. And your father’s far from perfect. I heard his demon theory—that’s a little out there, don’t you think?”

Tyler stiffens. “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.” He folds his arms across his chest. “But at least he’s not having me follow antiquated slayer practices that have no basis in reality.”

“At least my father never had to …” My mouth opens and my stomach drops. I can hardly believe what was about to come out of my mouth.

He stares at me—his jaw locked and his angry blue eyes dare me to finish the sentence. I feel sick and wish I could rewind time and take it all back.

I swallow hard. “Uh, I don’t have time for this,” I say trying to sound all businesslike and not at all like I was about to bring up what happened to his mother. “I have work to do.”

Kiki skips up to us and eyes Tyler. “Hellooooo,” she says, taking him in.

“Hey,” he says, totally staring at her chest.

I retract my earlier thought about her modest attire. Kiki’s hoodie is unzipped just enough to reveal a black lace cami her boobs are in danger of spilling out of. She’s wearing black leggings that show off every curve. The whole ensemble’s pretty hoochie for hunting vampires. At least she’s got on a pair of pink high-tops instead of heels.

I can’t help but notice that even though she’s obviously made an effort to dress down, she still took the time to put on a ton of makeup. She elbows my side and gives me a look that says she wants an introduction. “Sooooo, who’s your new
friend
?” she asks drawing out the words.

I scoff. “He’s not my friend; he’s just some guy who horned in on our gig.”

Tyler shakes his head in disgust. “Guess what—any handshake agreement our parents had is officially null
and void. If you want the job, make sure you do a better job than us.” He gives Kiki a brusque nod. “Nice meeting you.”

“I’m Kiki!” she calls out as he marches toward his room. “Hopefully I’ll see you again soon!”

“Tyler,” he says without turning around.

She tilts her head and watches him walk away. When he slams his door shut, she turns to me. “Are you always so rude to hot guys?”

“He’s not hot, he’s just another slayer. He and his dad had an agreement with my parents not to get jobs in the same area, but here they are nonetheless.”

“Mmmm. Maybe I can work with
him
next time.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “I’d let him slay me anytime!”

I scowl at her and rub my arms to chase away the chill. I glance at his room. “Do you really think he’s hot?”

“I could stare into those baby-blues twenty-four-seven. Did you notice the darker blue on the outside of his irises?”

“I guess.” I fold my arms across my chest. Apparently my boobs were nothing to openly gawk at. “He’s a jerk.”

“So is Gabe, but he’s still good in the—”

“Tyler wears a black trench coat and eyeliner,” I interrupt. Kiki is obviously the kind of girl who tells her friends
everything
, and I don’t think I could stomach listening to her bedroom antics—not when I’ve never even held hands with a guy or gotten one to stare at my chest.

“Ew. Guy-liner?” Kiki wrinkles her nose and snaps her fingers dismissively in the air. “Dealbreaker. I’m more partial to blonds anyway.”

I smile. The last thing I need is a budding romance between Kiki and Tyler. I tilt my head toward my room. “Let me get my stuff and we can get started.” We start walking and I feel drained from my encounter with Tyler. Talk about an energy vampire—someone needs to put a psychic stake through him and his father.

Kiki bounces along beside me. “I’m so excited!” she gushes, grinning. “I woke up at five and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“You’re awfully perky for having gotten up at five o’clock in the morning. Shouldn’t you be hung over or something?”

“Going to the police station seriously cut down on my drinking last night—do you know how many papers we had to sign? It was ridiculous. All they need is one form that says ‘tell no one or we ship you off to Area 51’!”

I laugh. “Yeah, dealing with vampires seems to require a ton of paperwork.”

“Anyway, I’ve had at least four cups of coffee this
morning. I wanted to be ready for action!” She does a few karate chops in the air and then a roundhouse kick. At least she manages to stay upright this time.

I slide my key card in the door and lead Kiki in. She looks around the little room with the tacky bedspreads and I can’t help but feel self-conscious. “Home sweet home,” I say, trying to sound lighthearted. “When you’re a full-fledged slayer like me you, too, can live in the lap of luxury.”

She plops herself on the unused bed. “So slaying doesn’t pay too much?”

I pull a brush through my hair and start to braid it. “Nope. The big bucks go to paying off witnesses—I just do it because I love working with vampires.” I give her a look so she’ll know I’m kidding. “We do get full government health insurance; that’s supposed to make up for the low pay, but we’re kind of at the mercy of town budgets. A lot of slayers have full- or part-time jobs on the side. Lucky me—my parents decided to make a career out of it.”

“What about big cities? They must pay better.”

The cities do pay better, and over the years I’ve repeatedly asked my parents to put in for a metro-gig so we could stay in one place and I could have some semblance of a life. But they always said it’s the little towns that need the most help. It’s embarrassing to admit my parents chose
the “little towns” over me. “Most of the big cities have in-house hunters. We’re freelancers,” I say, hoping she won’t ask more and we can move on.

“How often do you get to go home?”

I turn away from her and rifle through my toiletry bag. “We don’t.”

“So your house is just sitting empty all the time or do you have relatives living in it?”

I take in a deep breath, turn back to her and force a smile on my face. I wave around the room. “This is home. And we used to travel with my grandfather until he was institutionalized. He passed away ten years ago. I don’t think my mom has any family left—at least she’s never talked about them.”

“Oh,” Kiki says quietly. “I guess if you’re always traveling around a lot it doesn’t make sense to have a house.”

“Exactly.” Tears prick my eyes and I turn from her and blink them away. “So, how about we start today’s lesson.”

“Wait,” Kiki says. She opens her large pink bag and takes out a handheld recorder and a spiral notebook. She turns the recorder on and holds it toward me. “What do I need to know?”

I point to the recorder. “Is that necessary?”

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

“No recordings.”

“Fine,” she says, putting it away.

“Okay, you know the basics—stake in the heart.” I put my hand over my heart. “I don’t know if you know this, but it’s located a little to the left of—”

“Got it covered,” she says. She rifles through her bag and pulls out a folder. She opens it and takes out a diagram showing a heart inside a rib cage. “I did some research last night. I also found this cool website that sells vampire stakes. Look at these.” She takes out some more printouts and spreads them on the bed. “I ordered a few of these and a couple of these,” she says, pointing to some intricately carved stakes. “I wasn’t sure which ones would be the most durable; we’ll have to test them out.”

I look at the stakes and roll my eyes. “These may be pretty, but if they break, you’re screwed.”

“Well, it would be way more convenient if you could use, say, a metal stake that wouldn’t break. Can we?”

“The theory is they have to be staked by something that was once alive.”

“Is that the same kind of theory that thinks it’s a necessity to decapitate heads after you stake the body?”

I toss her a stake. “Just use this. Trust me; it’ll get the job done.”

She grimaces as she catches it. “It looks like a fence post.”

“I
know
, you already mentioned that,” I say, finding
it difficult to hide my annoyance. “But they’re cheap and they work.”

She puts the stake down on the bed, folds her hands in her lap, and looks at me like I’m a small child who doesn’t know the first thing about hunting. “Daphne, just because the cheap prototype stake works doesn’t mean you should ignore the kick-ass, hand-turned, spindle-style, aged-cedar stake with leather covered handle for a ‘sure grip.’”

She holds up a picture and I have to admit it does look cool. Of course owning something like that sends the message that you enjoy hunting vampires. Which I do not.

She picks up another picture. “And look at this one—cherry-stained hawthorn with
roses
carved on it. Is that totally sweet or what?”

I look at the price and almost faint. “It’s also two hundred dollars—that’s almost half of what we’re getting paid per kill. And I’m fairly certain the people making these are not expecting them to be plunged into any actual vampires.”

She pouts. “But they’re so pretty.”

“If you want to use the fancy stakes I won’t stop you.”

She bounces on the bed. “Yay! I’m having them express-mailed so they should arrive tomorrow. I was even toying with the idea of having one specially made.” She grins. “How
awesome
would it be to have a stake
carved like a
unicorn’s horn
? Every time I plunged it into a vampire’s heart it’d be like—
take that, Mom and Dad. I don’t need your stinking television show!
”

I stare at her. “Wow. That’s just … disturbing.”

She puts her hands up and nods. “Okay, maybe that’s going a little too far. I guess I have some unresolved issues with my parents.”

“Yeah. In the meantime, do you think you could stomach using one of the
boring
stakes?”

She picks one up and pumps her arm up and down like she’s plunging it into someone’s chest. “It’s a little heavy, and a rounded handle would be a little more ergonomic, but I guess I can make do.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She opens her notebook and takes out a pen. It looks like she has a bunch of notes under the heading “Vampires” written in purple ink. “So about sunlight—scorching end to vampires—true or false?”

“False. A vampire’s powers are greatly diminished during the daytime hours, though. That’s why we house-clean during the day and go street hunting at night when they’re more likely to be trolling for victims.”

She makes some notes and then looks up at me. “Silver bullets good for vampires as well as werewolves?”

“Only werewolves—but they’re a dying breed and not
worth worrying about. Nowadays lycanthropy is easy to keep under control with drugs during the time of change so their population is declining rapidly.”

She bites on the pen cap. “So you’re telling me I’m not going to get any hot wolf action from the alpha male who battled his pack to win me as his mate?”

I laugh. “Sorry.”

She clucks her tongue and crosses out something in her notebook with bold strokes. “Okay, what’s the scoop on garlic?”

“They don’t like the smell and stuffing it in the mouth of a decapitated head helps prevent it from …” I pause when I see her rolling her eyes.

“Really? The undead are that bothered by garlic? Even the decapitated heads?”

“Tradition says they are. And you said you’d cut the heads off—that’s the only reason I agreed to work with you.”

“I thought it had to with the money,” she shoots back. “But you’re the boss.” She puts her pen to paper. “Put garlic in the mouth of
severed
head so vampire with
stake
in its
heart
won’t
somehow
magically reattach it.” She marks the sentence with an exclamation point and then looks up at me innocently. “Can they really turn into bats?”