You need us, he says. I’d kill him if I was Judas.
Mike censored the rest of his thoughts as he grabbed Crandall’s wrist tugging him back and drawing his attention away from the vampire. “Don’t be so sure,” Mike said to Crandall. “For all we know it’s also been prophesized that one of us will die before it’s all said and done.”
“Since when do you believe in this shit?” Crandall turned on Mike, staring at him, through him, making Mike draw back and frown before answering.
“Because I believe it,” Judas said. “If I believe I have to kill one of you to fulfill the prophesy, then every one of you should fear for your short, fragile lives.” He cocked his head to one side, as if weighing how much more he should reveal.
“Lucky for you, I read no lines that hint at how many hunters survive until my death.” Judas shrugged. “I could kill you. It would mean nothing to me. It’s started already.” He laughed and then turned toward the stairs. “See yourselves out,” he said without looking back.
“If it’s started then why are we playing these fucking games?” Crandall yanked his arm away from Mike, took two full seconds to glare at him, and then turned towards the door they’d just used. “Waste of fucking time,” he muttered loudly.
Mike frowned after his singer. Only once the female voice called out again did he turn to see Nica rushing up to him in quick steps punctuated by the sharp clacks of her heels on the bare concrete floor of the club.
She took a deep breath and exhaled in a little harrumph that turned into a pout. “I’m going with you,” she said. She tipped her head back to look up at him.
“No,” Crandall said sharply. He spun around to face her. “You are not coming with us.”
She turned her pout on him. “Max already told me Judas granted your wish.”
“I’m going home and I’m going to bed. You are not welcome anywhere near my apartment.”
Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “So are we meeting up tomorrow night? I know where you practice.”
“No.” Crandall turned toward away and strode toward the door.
“What’s with him?” she asked looking up at Mike.
Mike shrugged. “We’re usually done with classes by nine.”
“No, Mike,” Crandall had stopped and turned to face them again. “She can’t watch us practice.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Do you want her to tell all her fang-brained friends our fighting techniques?”
“That’s not what I’m about.” Nica screwed up her face in a scowl, but a hint of a whine dribbled through her tone.
“Of course not. You wouldn’t want to kiss up to your boss. You wouldn’t want to give away our secrets so your friends can get away from us. You wouldn’t betray some measly human beings for your blood sucking monster family.” With each word, Crandall’s words darkened further, the sarcasm thick and snarky.
“I thought you were a nice guy, but you’re really just a pretentious jerk.” She crossed her arms, a barely contained snarl wrinkling her cherry red lips and revealing a hint of slender impossibly white fangs.
“Why don’t you just give me your number,” Mike said. “I’ll give you a call once we talk to the other guys.”
“Don’t bother,” Nica said. “I don’t have to help you, you know.” She spun around and hurried to the stairwell, disappearing into the dark with only the retreating sound of her heels to indicate she truly continued to the second floor.
Mike turned to say something to Crandall, but he was already through the door and into the night.
Up Next: Screwed