The Anti-Vampire Tale (The Anti-Vampire Tale, Book 1) by Lewis Aleman

Author:Lewis Aleman [Aleman, Lewis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Paranormal, General, Romance, Fantasy, Thrillers, Fiction
ISBN: 9781615890262
Publisher: Megalodon Entertainment LLC.
Published: 2010-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

Sunday. Going to be a bloody Sunday.

Sunday is Jazz Night. Can’t think of a better reason to shed some blood than being forced to listen to five hours of goatee-stroking, off-rhythm, snap-inducing, pseudo-intellectual, haughty, self-claimed-superior cacophony.

Seriously, I hate jazz more than Johnny. And if you catch my obscure reference, you belong at ‘80s Night with the rest of us.

All I want to catch is Ruby’s blue-maned, careless friend and get the three of us the hell out of here. Keep Ruby’s hand tight in my own. Haven’t feared anything in half a century, but I fear I’ll lose her. Fear it so much it hurts. Been like that since I brought her back into the city.

Scared to have her here. Scared more to leave her in the woods where I can’t see her. Edgar knows right where Ruby was—has to know by now that the number I gave him was to call upon a dead girl. Roderick probably knows right where she was in the woods by now too. Edgar’ll be all too happy to tell him to get back at me. Be his way to get Roderick off his own back for not returning to him right away—wasted his time on the chase I sent him, searching for veins that were long dry.

We walk into the bar and look around. I don’t see anything blue bopping. Don’t know if I’m happy or sad not to see her. Maybe she wised up. Or, maybe they’ve already found her before she could come out here. That seems more likely.

Still only 10:15. Place doesn’t get hot till 11 or later.

Sounds of a four-piece drum kit solo reach my ears. The awkward stops grate at me. Why can’t it be Tuesday night Burlesque? So glad they have that here—without it there’d be no pyro at the edge of the stage, and this tale would’ve been a whole heck of a lot shorter. A lot sadder too.

A guy across the bar squints his eyes behind his thick-framed glasses and waves one finger in the air—keeping his other hand at the brim of his bebop hat. Have to admit I kind of like the hat. Not my style, but a nice hat.

Ruby squeezes my hand—my eyes slide up her arm, along her shoulder, over the sleek contour of her neck—still unmarked by me, along the slender cheekbone, up her delicate nose, and to the intoxicating green of her eyes. That’s exactly my style.

Every bit of it.

She pulls my hand down, guiding my body toward her own. Her luscious, full lips press into mine, filling me with the warmth and hope that my fear had drained from me.

Knew what I needed without a word. She looked into me, knew what I lacked, and poured it out of herself into me.

Such a small package filled with so much. Even after our time in the wild—our time on the run without shower or refreshing, her hair smells wonderful—her kiss sweet.

Worry what is happening that I can’t see. Don’t want anything to harm her—even while she thrills me.

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