Under Wraps

“So, does anything interesting ever happen around here? You know, anything fun?”

 

 

Hank and Malcolm exchanged a look over my head. “Sometimes you’ve got to make your own fun.”

 

“Like, pummeling the occasional norm?” I said casually.

 

“Funny thing for a norm to say, don’t you think, Malcolm?”

 

I felt the heat prick at the base of my neck. “Norm?”

 

Malcolm had leaned into me, and I felt the tip of his nose, his cold marble lips brush against my neck, sending terrified shivers down my spine.

 

“You smell nice,” he growled at me. “Real nice. I bet we could have a lot of fun together.”

 

And that’s where my plan went awry.

 

I hopped off my bar stool and stepped back, my stomach playing the accordion, my heart pumping so much blood into my cheeks that I probably went from “tasty” to “irresistible” on the vampire delicious-food meter in less than a second. “It’s getting awfully late, fellows. I think I should be going.”

 

Hank narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see Parker standing up on the other side of the bar, Nina in tow, both looking a combination of frightened and exasperated. They were trying to make their way toward me, slowly edging between a throng of hobgoblins who were doing body shots.

 

“You can’t leave now. It’s still early, and we were just about to get to the fun part. Weren’t we, Malcolm?” Hank’s bloodless hand closed around my wrist, and he squeezed, the motion making my veins bulge blue in my arm. He licked his lips, and Malcolm chuckled.

 

“Thanks, but I really think it’s about time I go. It’s been really fun….” I tried to struggle away, tried to fight Hank’s grip, but Malcolm took my other arm and my hands went cold as both men stopped the blood flow. “Guys, I’ve really got to—” But my protest was lost in the chorus of shouts and growls that started on the dance floor.

 

“Damn zombies! You’re nothing but hangers-on! Freeloaders!”

 

“Who are you calling a freeloader?”

 

“You, freeloader!”

 

Malcolm and Hank let go of me to watch the commotion just as the dance floor exploded into pushing, pulling, punching chaos. Blood bags were punctured, and drinks were splattering everywhere. I saw a Heat demon blow a mouthful of fire, incinerating the DJ stand. A vampire crumbled and turned to dust when an irate, six-inch pixie drove a wooden chair rail through his heart. Malcolm and Hank stood up, and I used the opportunity to drop down to hands and knees and crawl toward the back hall. Once I was sure the vamps weren’t missing their snack, I began yanking on doors in the hallway, looking for a way out. After three locked doors in a row, finally, a knob turned.

 

“Thank God!” I breathed.

 

I yanked open the door and was immediately pummeled. I heard the unmistakable crack of bone on bone and felt the searing pain of a head butt. Whoever had thrown himself at me had done so with all their strength, and I was pinned to the floor under his weight—his solid, dead weight.

 

I struggled underneath the body, and the skull that bonked mine lolled over my chest and gazed up at me with milky, sightless eyes. I howled and started kicking, skittering—anything to get the dead guy off of me.

 

“My God, my God!” I was panting when Parker and Nina ran down the hall and found me on the floor, my eyes wide.

 

“What in the hell is going on here?” Parker shouted.

 

“Get him off of me! Get him off of me!”

 

Parker rolled the body over, and I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my arms to get the dead off of me. “Don’t touch it!” I screamed at Parker.

 

Parker was kneeling next to the body, his fingers pressed against the guy’s neck. “Yup.” He nodded. “Definitely dead.”

 

“Of course he’s dead!” I said, exasperated. “Live people don’t fall out of closets and pummel … other live people!”

 

Nina sniffed at the air. “And he’s fresh, too.”

 

Parker grimaced. “Well … that’s handy.”

 

Nina knelt down next to Parker. “Do you know how he died?” she asked.

 

Parker slid the sleeves up the man’s arms, and I wanted to barf. He checked the man’s neck for bites, and my knees started to quiver. “You guys, I need to get out of here.”

 

“No bite marks,” Parker told Nina, both of them ignoring me.

 

Nina gave the man’s veins a once-over. “He’s bleeding though.”

 

I looked at my own heaving chest. “Oh, God, so am I.”

 

Nina and Parker stood up and rushed to my side, examining the heart-shaped smear of blood on my chest. Nina dragged her index finger through it and then sucked heartily. “Not yours though,” she said finally.

 

My heart skipped a delighted beat, and then my mouth went dry. “Should I be concerned that you know what my blood tastes like?”

 

Parker fell back on his knees, pushing the dead man’s leather jacket aside. “Here. He’s been shot. Looks like through the back with a small-caliber rifle.”

 

“So what does that mean?” I asked. “A dead man, shot, stuffed in the closet of a demon bar?”