Suckers - J.A. Konrath

The man aimed his penlight back at the corpse's neck. "Looks like the work of Pires." He
smirked. "Sucks to be him."
My "complete asshole" assessment remained unchanged. "Oh, that was clever."
"Well, somebody had to make the first 'sucks' joke, and you don't look smart enough to have
thought of it yourself. The next time you see a vampire-ravaged body with a hollowed-out throat
you can use it. But I want royalties."
I extricated myself from the corpse and wiped off my hands on my pants. The body
belonged to a young guy with Kurt Cobain greasy blond hair. A pentagram had been carved into
his bare chest.
"Are you sure your Pires did this?"
He crouched down next to the corpse, keeping the gun on me. "Looks like it. There's not
much blood left."
"Maybe it was oversized mosquitoes. Or maybe Red Cross representatives gone wild."
He glanced at me, not looking happy. "Remember that I got the gun, sofa-boy. I'm the one
who gets to make the snide comments."
I sighed and took a quick peek at the still-open doorway. Maybe if I got him talking I'd have
a chance to run for it.
"Is that who you were supposed to kidnap?" I asked.
"It’s not a kidnapping; it’s a rescue."
"Is that who you’re supposed to rescue against their will?"
"You're a smart-ass," the man noted. "I can relate to that. What's your name?"
"Andrew Mayhem."
"What's your real name?"
"Andrew Mayhem."
"Pretty stupid name."
"And you are...?"
"Harry McGlade."
I quickly tried to think up a hilarious comment (preferably something obscene) that rhymed
with "McGlade," but nothing came to mind. And then I decided it wasn't a good idea to be
making fun of his name, considering that I was still the one being held at gunpoint. And then I
decided I should really be more mature than that anyway, given the circumstances.
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