The Anti-Vampire

Arch my back to land as hard of a punch as I can throw—sting pierces my neck—sharp.

Turn to see the source of Ambrosia’s squeal and the hand that threw the needle lodged in the back of my neck. Roderick—his smile is content, but his eyes are hungry with rage—hungry for destruction but enjoying that all he lusts for has been delivered to him inside his own house.

Grab the piercing needle—feathered at its end. Yank it out. It’s indeed a dart. Red feathers at its handle end— discolored at its tip—stained with something.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Roderick. Darts?”

He raises his left hand, revealing three more of them held between his fingers.

“Life gets boring, Simon, without new, little toys to play with.”

“You’ve lost your mind, you crazy, old psycho. Might as well be throwing feathers at me after all we’ve been through.”

“Feathers add up—eventually breaking any beast’s back.”

“What do you know about beasts? All you’ve been doing is bullying young girls. You wanna break me, Roderick?” pausing while I turn and punch the blur of Edgar rushing toward me. Then as he drops back to the wall, I continue, “Come and break me, tough guy.”

Roderick’s face stares at me—unmoved.

Edgar’s on his feet again, hands slicing the air in noisy chops. Turn to face him with my hands covering my head. His first hand smacks my forearm, but his second goes to my ribs—scraping them. Finally went to the body— he’s learning. Guess he hasn’t fought too many people who know how to block him.

Throw an elbow into Edgar’s forehead, and another dart digs into me—into the center of my back.

Roderick moves toward me. Edgar shakes the remaining dizziness from my elbow shot to his head.

Ambrosia is standing on her toes looking from the door to Roderick and back to the door.

I charge at Roderick and shout, “Run, Ambrosia, get out of here! Now, now, now!”

Roderick throws another dart that lands in my left biceps.

Ambrosia runs over the books scattered on the floor before the bookshelf and then disappears out the hole.

My head grows foggy—muscles feel heavy.

Roderick throws a punch at my head. Dodge—sway my torso back. Too close—I’m moving too slow. Something’s wrong.

Catch Edgar moving in the corner of my eye. Have to move fast—got to get both of them on the same side of me or this won’t last very long.

Roderick swings wildly at me again.

I duck down and with a leg scissors trip him face-first to the floor.

Edgar’s footsteps are scrambling loudly on the wood floor, but they’re moving away from us.

I jump onto Roderick’s back, pushing my knees into his spine and pulling up on his chin—tying him up and putting pressure on his lower back.

We both look to Edgar who’s nearly out the hole in the bookshelf.

Roderick shrieks, “I need you, you weasel!”

Edgar puts a hand to the edge of the hole in the bookshelf and stops. Pointing with his other hand to the corner front window, “No, you don’t. Look to the window.”

I drop my hold of Roderick’s chin as I see two vampires—Quint and Carvelli crouched on the ledge and lifting the window. Their faces are scratched harshly, but they’re ready to fight.

Head’s sludgy—dizzy—breaths coming hard—balance is off. Darts must’ve been poisoned—same stuff as before.

Quint and Carvelli drop down to the hardwood floor.

I break a leg off a nearby lamp stand—lamp crashing and shattering on the floor.

Two more figures have jumped up to the window sill—must be climbing to the edge of the balcony that is still standing and not completely in flames and then jumping to the sill.

The two jump into the room. Desiree—one of Edgar’s little needle girls—her eyes look raw. Speaking of needles—my eyelids are getting heavy. Poison’s working fast. The other vamp is a guy—young one, short brown hair—long sideburns—don’t even know his name—must’ve been born in the last five decades when I was away.

Footsteps pound their path up the stairs—a lot of them.

Did Ambrosia have enough time to get downstairs? Hope so.

The approaching horde stomp higher and higher up the stairs—some smacking their feet down this hallway— getting close to this room.

Another dark figure jumps to the windowsill.

Roderick, now up on his knees, throws the last dart—piercing its way into my thigh.

Yank it out of my leg—yank the other out of my biceps. Put both of them between fingers in my left hand— going to need them—won’t be enough. Can’t reach the one still stuck in my back. Thoughts getting slow… heavy.

Roderick smiles as the first of his lackeys reach the opening in the bookcase. Must be the horror shelf.

I hate it because it’s his smile. Hate it because of the malice in it. Hate it because it’s smug. Hate it because I’m fading. Hate it even more because it’s the last thing I may see. Hate it worse ‘cause don’t know how far Ruby’s gotten away from all this.

I’ll fight till my eyes shut for good, but looks like Roderick’s won. Fighting just to keep eyes open now, and it hasn’t even begun.

Doesn’t look good.

Run, Ruby, run.

Hold them off as long as I can. Fangs and claws surround me—closing in at all sides.

Dear God, Ruby, run.

Pale, pointed-tooth creatures rush past.

Their footsteps were close behind as soon as I started up the first set of stairs. Sprinted up to the second floor—ran down the hallway where I was imprisoned just a short while ago.

That’s where I peer at them now, from behind the corner of the hallway—right where I ran into Katrianna earlier.

At least a dozen of them—loud racket—running up to the third floor.

Look back to the room where I was held captive—no guards—dead or alive. Door is shut but blood covers the floor in front of it.

Maxine—hope she’s alright. Hope she struck the blood and didn’t do the bleeding herself. Have to check on her before we leave, but right now I have to follow after this unholy herd up the stairs to save Simon.

The trampling feet are off the stairs and on the third floor now—where all the noise was coming from before they started stomping up the stairs—must be where Simon is, maybe Ambrosia too.

“Aaaaaah!” squeals from my old cell.

Ambrosia—it’s her. Girl squeaks like no other. Run toward the door. Grab Ambrosia—go after Simon—get the hell out of here. Smile everyday that I wake up somewhere other than this hellish place.

I slam Ambrosia’s wrists against the wall, and holding them between my thumb and fingers, I drive my fingernails into the wall, shackling her to the sheetrock with my flesh.

Her eyes weep as she whimpers, spreading her overdone makeup down her face like she’s crying blue blood.

Her blubbering almost makes my aching body feel better after fighting Simon. Thinking of the hell he’s going through now makes me feel better. And, looking down at Ambrosia’s stomach that squirms left and right with the rest of her body, trying to break free of my hold, my senses think of what they’ll be enjoying later on—the special fix like no other. That definitely makes me feel better.

Was all too easy to grab her, stumbling clumsily down this hallway, running away from the clamor coming up the stairs toward her. Breathing on her neck, sliding my fangs across her thin skin before she knew there was anything in the darkness behind her but her fear. With a quick, “Hello, sweetheart,” a moment to enjoy the terror in