As Dead as They Come

I guess they anticipated the scream that I’d let loose, ‘cause the dude with the low-toned voice clamped both large hands over my mouth to halt the would-be ear piercing screech. The bite hurt like hell, and a wave of absolute confusion so large it would drown half the town swept over me. Reacting to the bite and the pain, my whole body tensed as I tried to rip this insane woman off of me by her hair. Her hold was fast on me, though, her grip stronger than my resistance. All I could do was struggle to no avail with repeating strings of ‘WTF’ running through my mind.

The she-creep finally separated herself from my neck, the paper-white skin around her mouth smeared with a dark liquid. Feeling a bit faint at the sight, I cringed at the small wave of nausea that hit. The guy with the deeper voice released my mouth as he urged the psycho-chick to speak up.

“Is she newly-turned?” he asked, but she continued to stare blankly at me like she was in a trance. “Hey!” he whisper-barked, nudging the woman. She pitched forward, falling right into me before toppling to the ground square on her face. “Regan!” Both remaining members of the creep-crew around me shouted her name as I was once again shoved against the side of the house. Face-to-face with a large set of fangs, I was held by the snarling deep-voiced man. The other guy was cradling the fallen woman, who was limp in his arms. Her eyes were open, blank and glassy as a foamy red substance seeped from between her lips.

“Tag and bag ‘er, Tavian, something is seriously wrong with Regan!” the one holding the woman said quickly, not even trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“Why are you still here?” Fangman’s dark eyes paused in pinning me down to glare at the skinnier guy, who didn’t waste a second in scooping up their female companion and high-tailing it straight over the fence after being barked at. The grip on my shoulders tightened painfully, hard eyes returning to burn at me as near-white fangs reappeared in the low light. His voice came out as a low, rumbling growl.

“What did you do?” he said very slowly, through clenched teeth, something sharp digging into my arms more painfully with each of his words.

I might as well have been tripping major balls right then. My mind literally convinced every other part of me that I was hallucinating, and that I’d kill whoever spiked the refreshments. Or maybe it was the cold meds... Is that possible?

The wind rushed from my lungs as he slammed me hard against the house, the back of my head exploding in pain from the resulting impact. I wheezed an attempted reply, something along the lines of him being one crazy mother-effer. Enraged, he gripped me and thrust me back against the wall once more. My dark surroundings spun in a sickening, wild pattern, bringing a sharp headache to the forefront of my senses. A different, yet familiar voice joined the whirlwind.

“Ain’t sure why a muddy alley suits your fancy, but... could you screw each other’s brains out elsewhere? I’m trying to take a dump in peace.” Both myself and Sir Creepsalot whipped our heads up toward my bathroom window, which was positioned directly above us. My senses cleared a bit as my eyes widened in recognition of the elder pong champion, Cyrus, as he craned his head out the window in a mildly-interested fashion. All three of us stared at one another for a beat, Whitey-McPaleface in surprised shock, me giving off subtle-yet-desperate hints of ‘help me, help me, help me,’ and the older coot in increasing disinterest. The piercingly-painful sensation in my arms returned as my captor let out a slow hiss.

“This does not concern you, devil-lover.” Words formed from the sound. Croft was unphased by the strange insult... if that’s what that even was. He scratched at one stubble-covered cheek lazily, jutting his jaw out to the side while raising a brow at the guy.

“Well... Seeing as you’ve got one of ours, there... It maybe, kind of does,” he replied with a small, crooked smile, “Clot-twat.” I let out a yelp that started as explosive laughter, but quickly morphed into pain as whatever the heck this guy’s got me by- his nails?- definitely broke my skin.

“Croft, get me out of this and I swear I will hook you up with my cousin!” He threw me a lazy sideways look from above as the deep-voiced Fangman continued right over me.

“How can she be one of yours? The Courts and rogues alike do not associate with the Academy, swine.”

“He’s also a dude... Better get yer eyes checked, boy... All that thirst for blood must be killin’ your sense of sight. ”

“Croft, I swear-”

“Leave us now if you have any mind for sense, boy!” Fangman snapped. The older coot gave a long-drawn sigh as he massaged his brows briefly with one hand, muttering all the while. He then dropped two fingers between his lips and gave a sharp whistle, and Fangman was back to hissing.

“Cyrus? Cyrus, c’mon, man-” My words were cut off for the umpteenth time, that occasion by the distinctive paff! of a gun with a silencer on the end. I jumped as the whiz of a bullet seemed to fly in front of my face, and Fangman released me with a roar. I heard the impact of the bullet to his shoulder, and didn’t waste a disoriented minute at scrambling-the-hell-away from his grasp. Paperface grabbed the point of impact on his shoulder with a hand that every digit ended in a long, black claw. Blood from his wound seeped between the jagged undersides of the talons. I clapped both hands over my mouth to stifle the embarrassing noise sure to come as the older coot hopped down from the window, one of his ‘fake’ guns drawn.

“Don’t kill him on my property!” I opened my hands to whisper-shout, replacing them right after. He gave me a bored look.

“Oh, it won’t kill him, Lionheart. He’s right as rain.” Fangman gave a high-pitched screech in reply, and I cowered behind this weird, dirty gangster. I about leaped out of my skin when the other half of their odd duo appeared beside me.

“A vamp? What’re you doing fuddling with a vamp?” Mac asked incredulously, before taking a double-glance at me.

“You may want to ask our prepubescent friend, here. Before he faints from shock.” Panic forgotten for a second, I rounded on the grizzled lunatic.

“Faint? I have more fortitude than that, you old bat...” Mac pulled out a firearm of his own, larger in size than his companion’s. Fangman gave another screech, eyes blazing red before his form twisted in a sickening way. Horrified, I watched his body shrink and contort until he was a large winged creature... A malformed bat. He took off, chittering like crazy. Both men turned to look at me before the blood left my face, and I pitched forward into a sickening swirl of black irony.