William gestured toward the pier. “Try to keep up.”
The three of us lined up. William gave us the countdown and we were off. William seemed to be holding back, so Vince and I were pretty close. That’s when we saw Marty.
Marty was tied on one of the pylons under the pier. It was like William set up some sort of spotlight on her. She stared out to sea vacantly, frozen in that same vampiric trance she’d been under at the rink. Vince was out of the race in an instant, heading for her. I knew Marty was in good hands. My job was to keep William busy while Vince figured out how to save her.
I scooted after William. He reached the orange cones and ramped a sharp turn. I poured it on. I was gaining, which is impressive when you’re not a supernatural creature racing against one.
I was close enough. Lunging forward, I pushed William back to the cone barrier and the exposed railings.
In a flash, William was in my face. “Predictable, Abby. You want to spear me on the rails? Like in Highway to Hades, 1997?” William turned us around and pushed backwards. We barreled the cones and the exposed metal at incredible speed.
“This is going to hurt,” William said, “and I’m okay with that.”
We burst through the cones, my back heading for the exposed rails. I crossed one foot over the other, tripping myself. I landed hard on a slab of concrete. William hit the metal pole and impaled himself. Was he staked?
William laughed. “What are the odds of staking me through the heart in one try? About zero. Too easy,
Abigail Rath.”
He flew at me and grabbed me under the shoulders. On the way up, he sliced open my backpack with his long nails. We rose toward the Ferris wheel, toward the giant bat. “You lose,” he said, poised above the roller coaster. A set of cars thundered on the track below us.
I plucked a falling vial from my shredded bag out of the sky. “Guess again.” I threw the holy water and his hands flew up to wipe it out of his eyes.
He dropped me and I fell toward the roller coaster track.
My arms scrabbled. I didn’t want to die. Plummeting toward the track, I could see the ground underneath.
Whoosh! There was a rumble under me, and some screaming, and I found myself lying across two people. One set of arms clamped around me immediately. My right arm felt like it was full of glass. I had fallen into a roller coaster cart, and I wasn’t dead. What were the odds of me falling into a roller coaster cart scooting along at city traffic speeds? About a hundred percent. It hurt, but I knew how lucky I was.
I couldn’t move my right arm. My stomach, full of panic and adrenaline, roiled.
“Get off!” screamed a girl, her ponytail flapping behind her.
Like that was going to happen. I held on with my good hand, and her boyfriend grabbed me. I was glad the West Coaster was a nice, mild coaster, and it didn’t turn upside down.
We skidded to the end of the ride, and park security was waiting for me. Stunned, I moved off the cart, right into their hands.
“What happened?” an officer asked.
I’m sure he wanted to know where I’d come from. “I broke my arm.”
William flew in through the exit of the coaster. He grabbed a piece of corrugated metal from the wall and peeled off the sheet. The metal whipped and waved, and he threw it at the group of the security guards and me.
“Get down!” I yelled.
The metal sheet slapped two security guards to the ground, and twisted from the blow. I bent backwards, and the metal sailed over me. Dethroned or not, I was still the limbo queen.
My arm pulsed like flashing police lights. I ignored the pain, even though my stomach kept trying to bring it to my attention. I stumbled into the park. William, now in full blown Nosferatu Junior mode, flew out after me, scattering parkgoers in his wake.
“Why won’t you just die?”
Because I didn’t want to. Because Abigail Rath, monster hunter, was not going to die at the hands of a glittery hasbeen, spoiled brat vampire.
I weaved into the line for the Sea Dragon, the ship swing next to the Ferris wheel. Just beyond the line to ride, there was a silver box, padlocked, with thick black cables snaking out of it. I heard the attendant yell at me, but I didn’t care. I crawled under one of the guard chains and stood by the silver box.
William hit the box with incredible force. Blue electricity sparked from it, and I moved as far away as I could. Wouldbe riders scattered. William trembled and arced with power, smoke rolling off him. Finally, the power in the park died, the rides shorting out, the lights going off. Only the Ferris wheel was left to see by. Good old solar powered Ferris wheel.
Was William still standing? I heard a voice beside me. “Nice. Scars of Dracula, 1970. Good emulation of a lightning strike. But no go.”
Panic and the crowds cut off my exit. William had me. I hoped Vince had gotten away with Marty.
The Ferris wheel shifted from the bat, spun in a multicolored spiral, and became a pinwheel. Then it solidified into something like a giant cross, Gothic, mostly gold, with lots of LED blue and green shooting through it. William shouted, and began to smoke.
“Didn’t see that one coming,” said William. “Brides of Dracula,
