He snarled, but didn’t let go of my throat. Dammit. Only one thing to do. Up came the knee. He doubled over in a bellow of rage and pain and his hold on my throat loosened enough so I could break it.
I brought my knee up again, this time smashing it into his nose, and then used the force of his backward stagger to drag the stiletto out of his chest. I swiped at him, but he moved too quickly and the blade just managed to cut a line across his chest, ripping open his shirt and leaving a thin trail of dark blood. He snarled again.
Then he was gone too fast for even my eye to follow. He must have been an old one. Only the really old ones could move that fast. Dammit. Now I was going to have to go on the hunt. It was so much easier when I could dust them the first time around.
I turned back to my date, expecting to find horror in his eyes. I didn’t. Instead, he looked a little too over excited for my taste. “You really do kill vampires for a living. That’s hot.”
Oh, crap. Don’t tell me he was one of those weirdos that got off on vampires and violence and stuff. Ew. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him, wincing as I parroted the government’s line, “Vampires don’t exist. Even the President says so.” There’d been a Presidential press conference just last week after some paramilitary group issued a statement claiming vampires were responsible for an attack on the New York subway.
He laughed. “Come on. I saw the fangs. That guy was way too strong and fast to be human. Everyone knows the government is only trying to hide their existence from us.”
Great. He was some kind of conspiracy nut and I’d practically handed him living proof that vampires were real. I could only hope he didn’t have a blog. “Fine then. I told you I kill them for a living. You just didn’t listen.” I started toward my car.
“Well, you didn’t kill that one,” he pointed out.
I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
“So, hey,” he said eagerly, trotting along behind me. “I had a really great time. I’d love to take you out again. How about tomorrow?”
Say what? Was he serious? I unlocked my car door, hopped in, and slammed it behind me. He knocked on the window, so I rolled it down.
“So, how about it? Are you free?”
“Sure I am. When hell freezes over.”
Chapter Five
“So, how was your date?” Kabita slid into the booth opposite me at our favorite restaurant. It was the only Indian restaurant in town, and as such, had become practically our second home. The bhangra music thumping away on the stereo in the kitchen made me a little homesick for London.
I gave her an eye roll and reached for a chapati. “Don’t ask.”
She raised her brow.
“OK, fine. It was just some idiot accountant who thought he was superior to me until I kicked a little vampire ass right in front of him. Now he thinks I’m the best thing since Xena.”
Kabita snorted. “Look out world, Morgan Warrior Princess, has arrived.” She reached for the bowl of poppadoms and snapped off a piece.
“Shut up. Anyway, he’s called me five times since last night even though I told him I’d rather be eaten alive by fire ants than go out with him again.”
One silky black eyebrow rose toward her hairline so high it nearly disappeared under her hair. She stopped munching on the poppadom. “You actually told him that?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, no. Not exactly.”
She rolled her eyes and smacked her hand on her forehead. “What exactly did you say?”
I let out a sigh. “I told him to go forth and multiply,” I mumbled around a mouthful of curry. It was a clever little British-ism that was essentially the same as telling someone to fuck off. Unfortunately, it didn’t translate well on this side of the Atlantic.
“Morgan,” she groaned, “we’re not in London anymore. You can’t tell American men that. They take it too literally.”
Well, duh. I didn’t need her to tell me that. And I definitely didn’t need her to know that he’d doubled the amount of calls since I told him that. Some people just don’t get sarcasm. Fortunately for me, I cut my eye teeth on sarcasm. Most of my mother’s side of the family ate sarcasm for breakfast. My mother tolerated us for the sake of peace and unity and most likely her own sanity. Truth be told, she probably ignored our verbal sparring most of the time.
“I’m hoping if I don’t call him back, he’ll get the point.” It sounded totally chicken-shit even to me.
I wondered if a person’s eyes could actually roll right out of their head. I might find out pretty soon if Kabita didn’t stop rolling hers. I often wondered if Kabita could see her brain when she rolled her eyes. “Morgan Bailey! You are horrible. You are a chicken. You are … you are …”