Suckers - J.A. Konrath

with lunging fangs got a Moe-style head-crunch, which sounded more like a dull thud than two
coconuts hitting. I planted a heel onto the nose of a some nude skinny guy, drilled an elbow into
the cheek of a chick who moments ago was making me sing soprano, and then sprinted right at
Vlad, stepping on legs and spines and necks, and giving him a swift kick in the peanuts.
Vlad cradled his delicates like a child holding two raisins and a bran flake, and I pushed past
and ran into Crazy Chainsaw Goon, just as he was yanking the cord.
I couldn’t hear my screams above the roar of the saw, but I could guess they oozed
machismo and self-confidence. I took a quick left through a doorway, another left down a hall,
yanked open another door, and flew into a room filled with Vlad and a dozen angry, naked
vampires.
I hugged my knees and Crazy Chainsaw Goon toppled over me, falling face first onto his
appliance. He must have pinned down his trigger finger, because the saw revved and came up
through his shoulder blades like a shark fin, misting me with blood.
I pushed backwards, bare feet sliding in the gore, and scrambled back down the hall with a
flock of Pires on my heels.
Which is where I met up with Crazy Knife Goon and his Swiss Army Buffalo Skinner.
He slashed. I ducked. But I didn’t duck far enough, and the blade dinged off my scalp. The
pain was painful. I fell onto my butt, and he raised the blade for the coup de grace.
"Hold on!" I said, showing him my palm.
He paused, holding the striking position. I pressed my free hand to my head.
"Look what you did. You really hurt me, you idiot."
Knife Goon shifted from one foot to the other. "I...uh..."
"Don’t just stand there. Get me a bandage or something. Jesus, I’m gonna need stitches."
"Sorry," he mumbled, lowering the knife and turning around.
I planted both my hands on his lower back (okay, it was his ass, but this was special
circumstances—I’m 100% all man, baby) and pushed as hard as I could.
He teetered forward, and I scuttled past and made it to my feet, through a door, down a hall,
and into the room where Vlad and all the naked vampires were.
Two of them grabbed my legs, sinking their pointy dentures into my knees. Knees are harder
than tooth enamel, and I won that encounter, though one incisor wedged itself deep enough into
my kneecap to bring macho, manly tears to my eyes.
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