"Captured the vampire killers, Malcolm? You are one of the vampire killers," said Bo, whose size and charisma made him the defacto leader of this gruesome ensemble. We were completely outnumbered. Sid caught on fast when it came to firefighter operations. Killing a bug with a sledgehammer is our modus operandi on most jobs, if we have the resources that is. Lately, Sids resources have been dwindling. I think he's pissed. Too bad, I say.
"Bo, why are you involved in all of this. You have a good life, playing the blues till midnight, drinking the blood of your groupies till three, fighting a fire when the tone goes off, why follow that demon Sid? You may kill us, but eventually, the wheels will fall off of his department, and he will be gone, just like always."
"You don't know diddly, Malcolm. I don't give two shits about Sid. He's the boss for now, I, unlike you, respect the chain of command. It's been so for centuries, and it works. It is what separates us from existence and the void. Without some hierarchy, the whole shebang would implode, and Vampires would be no more. Then we'd be singin the blues fo sure!
"Is that a bad thing, Bo?" I asked, solemnly while making eye contact with Angus, who had been busy sizing up our foes while I distracted the leader. Nine against one. Four of the vampires weren't worth half a shit, so that left five. I could handle two, Angus two, that left one for Bob. I wondered if he were up to the challenge.
A gentle hum turned into a roar, and the headlights from a hundred Harleys illuminated our motley crue. Angus and I stood between Crissy , Bob and Charlie facing Bo and his nameless pack of drones, some of whom were barely vampires, having foolishly drank the blood of a vampire who simply wanted to have a little fun. Making a true vampire takes a little more than simple blood play. Kids, can't teach them anything. All of us looked toward the approaching lights, whose collective force appeared as one giant beam heading toward us.
A fanged smile crossed my face when I saw who rode the lead Harley. She rode the thing like a man, legs kicked out, shoulders back, a snarl that would make Billy Idol jealous and reeking of attitude. I do love Courtney. She stopped the bike in the middle of the crowd, gave the kickstand a rebellious whack, walked over to me, put her tongue into my mouth and grabbed both my cheeks hard enough to make it feel good.
"Ass is getting soft, Malcolm. These fuckheads giving you trouble?" she said, tossing her head and swinging her blonde mane toward Bo's gang, once I stopped nibbling her tongue.
"Not much. Sid sent them to kill us."
"Fucking Sid," she said, put her thumb and index finger into that delectable mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Her gang, some Vampire, some outlaw, some thrill seekers and all almost as crazy as Courtney got off their bikes and surrounded us. Ever the opportunist, I slinked behind the bikers, shaking hands, bumping chests, high fiving, whatever greeting was appropriate to whatever biker. My gang followed me into the throng, careful not to get too close. All but Angus who fit right in with the misfits.
The slaughter was quick. There wasn't much left when the bikers were through. Bo managed to survive, and Courtney walked over to us, her arm around the bear of a man like they were high school sweethearts.
"Who do you love, Malcolm?" she asked me, grinning, her mouth covered with the blood of the undead.
"Always you. Stay for a while, I've got an itch named Sid to scratch."
"I'd love to, but you know how I love the Kangamangus Highway in the fall."
She grabbed my crotch, almost gently and licked my lips. I tasted the second hand blood of her victims. Then she was gone, the tail lights of the Harleys fading along with their roar. Then there was only us. And Bo.
"That is one crazy bitch, good thing she likes the blues!"
"What am I to do with you Bo? I've always liked you, I've never had any trouble with any of the poor soulless that Sid continues to sick on us. I don't like killing our kind, but I will survive. When it comes to them or me, I'll take me."
"I've got a show at Busters on the Lake at eleven," said Bo.
"Then let the show go on!"
Bo shuffled back to the abandoned fire engine, started it up and drove away.
"That was one fucked up calvary," said Bob, as we drew closer to one another. Our alliance grew stronger with every adventure we shared, I felt the bond grow with every minute we spent together. I'd like to attribute this phenomenon to my magnetism and charisma, but simple human survival instinct, freshly born in Crissy, Bob and Charlie and ancient between Angus and me mix together, and chemistry created by whatever forces make this universe we call home tick bonds us, and makes us more alike than any of us would like to admit.
Well, maybe not Angus and Crissy, who for now have bridged their differences, and share an intimacy only I can detect. Good thing for Angus, Old Bob the firefighter may be human still, but the power of a father scorned is nothing to take lightly.