Page 10 of Nosfer-Meet You

Her eyes snap to mine, and her throat bobs. Like whatever she has to say is poison in her mouth. “Do as your father says. Leave your paintings behind. We have to go now.”

“Go?” My mouth runs dry. Maman brushes past me brusquely, nearly knocking me over. “Go where? Why are we going? Who is coming? Is it a fire?”

Maman lingers at the bottom of the staircase for half a second to meet my gaze. “Non, daughter. It is the revolutionaries.”

Chapter 5

Scotty

THE SWEETEST SOUND

The squelching of a man dying makes me cringe as his death throes wriggle in my eardrums, followed by the panicked “Fuck!” of another. And then he, too, presumably dies by the little unholy terror’s hands.

Tiny and lethal. My type, I fear.

I creep around the side of the truck to chance a glimpse of her in action, but all I see are two dead bodies lying in front of a door. The only light around is the lamp plastered on the side of the building, moths fluttering around the bulb. I’m not sure why the Helsings insist on wearing Kevlar uniforms. It’s not like we’re shooting bullets at them. The general public can’t even buy firearms on Mystella, so they have nothing to fear in that regard. If they were smart, they’d cover their major arteries in barbed metal instead. But the Helsings aren’t smart, they’re just armed.

Thanks to all the carnage, my bloodlust is immediate, followed by the pounding headache that makes me double over my knees in agony. Not only that, but the erection that follows is so painful it feels like my cock is going to explode. Literally.

I’ve heard of some younger vamps having this problem. The bloodlust that urges us to feed also makes us horny as hell, and some have died from it getting too extreme because they’d rather end their unlives than endure the temporary discomfort. Extreme blue balls.

Without thinking, I make a mad dash for the corpses lying on the ground and immediately start lapping up the blood weeping from the one guy’s stomach wound.

I don’t see Juliette anywhere. Come to think of it, I don’t see that third Helsing she mentioned, either. Maybe she’s already pulled his sorry carcass off into an alleyway somewhere to snack on him. Either way, the bloodlust throbbing in my veins and cock can’t be ignored anymore, so I drink deeply from the gash in the man’s chest.

Suddenly, white-hot pain lances through my body as stars burst in my eyes. Someone’s taken a boot to my temple, and I’m laid out on my back in the street, spread eagle. Fuck.

“Get up!” I hear Juliette cry.

Moaning, I roll onto my side and spit out a blood clot, along with one of my teeth. Thankfully not one of my incisors, but still. Whoever kicked me lands another blow to my side, sending my body flying like a rag doll through the air.

When I hit the pavement again, I hit it hard. So hard I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to get back up without my ribs crumbling to dust.

I assume the fetal position and let out another groan. My attacker comes up to me for a third time, and I grit my teeth as I prepare myself for the finishing blow. Looking up, I notice the asshole’s helmet and sneer. It looks like a giant, rusty bucket with a slit in the center.

“Killed by a walking trash can,” I rasp. Nothing like almost getting dusted by a Monty Python cosplayer. “Cool. Hey, mate. Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries.”

“Shut it, vampire scum,” the deep voice echoes inside the tin can. “You will be cleansed by fire as ordained by the Order of the Sugardove Paladins.”

Oh. Oh, no. It’s bad enough that I’m about to die—that definitely sucks, yes, but getting killed by one of the paladin dorks? This can’t be happening.

Groaning, I roll onto all fours and try to crawl away. But the paladin’s metal boot slams down onto my back, sending my chin into the pavement. More teeth go flying out of my mouth and tinkle across the concrete.

“S-Stop, man—come on,” I choke out. This is getting insulting. “Just stake me already.”

But the paladin presses his boot into my back. It feels like I’m going to turn into vampire soup.

“Silence,” the walking tin-can bellows. “Goddess knows I take no pleasure in my duty, but in the name of my lady, I purge this city of filth and⁠—”

The paladin doesn’t finish his sentence, because a set of claws punches right through the slit of his helmet from behind. His eyeballs, a pair of baby blues, wind up on the ends of those claws like meat skewers at a barbecue.

Holy shit.

Blood trickles in thick, gooey rivulets through the hole. I cringe as I try to pull myself up to my feet, but find myself unable to move.

The paladin sinks to his knees and topples over to the side, revealing a terror-stricken Nosferatu in his place. Her mouth falls open as she takes in the sight of me. Damn. I must look rough, huh? Juliette rushes forward to drag me off into the alleyway and out of sight.

“Scotty…” she murmurs, propping me up against the wall. I place my hands over my chest as she examines me. Her fingers run over my neck, my shoulders, my back, everywhere. That fucker broke some of my ribs, and my body is still trying to repair itself. It’ll mend, but it will take more time.