Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 14

  My breath whooshed out of me. Nothing replaced it. The word “winded” wasn’t strong enough. I was “hurricaned,” “tornadoed,” even. I lay there with my mouth hanging open like a landed trout. The pain in my chest rivalled the pain in my back. What was going on ’round the back of my head was a whole other story.

  Doucheface Toothyballs, or whatever the hell her name was—maybe I’d remember when I could get a whiff of air into my lungs—watched me while I struggled. She was enjoying the show. The second I was able to take a breath, she stopped with the watching and got with the doing. The bitch straddled me and held me down.

  I fought against her hold on me. Managing to get one arm free, I punched her in the side of the head. I scratched her face. I was about to gouge her headlights out when she punched me back. She hit me so hard, I felt as if she’d rung my bell. Then I had the sensation that I was sliding sideways, even though, physically, I was going nowhere. When my brain stopped fucking around in my skull and I was able to take in what was going on, Doucheballs was lying on top of me, using her whole body to press me into the cobblestones.

  I attempted to throw her off. She was way too powerful to react to my low-powered bucking-bull routine.

  She put her face an inch from mine and inhaled deeply. I retched because she exuded the aroma of dead animal, shit and arsehole casserole. Closing her eyes, she made a throaty sound of pleasure. Unfortunately for me, I smelled tasty to her.

  She yelled something in Italian to the male. Her voice was thin and raspy. I couldn’t make out everything she said, but I understood enough. She warned the male not to kill Greg yet. She wanted to make Greg watch while they drank from the ‘bella ragazza,’ or beautiful girl, as she so affectionately referred to me. How sweet.

  I turned my head to the side to find Greg. I cried out when I saw him. The pain I experienced upon seeing him was so great, I felt as if I’d been winded again.

  His skin was shredded. The male had ripped into Greg’s back, arms, chest and face. Blood was just streaming out of him. A sob burst from my mouth. And then another. I scrunched my eyes closed, unable to witness Greg being hurt.

  I heard a crunching sound followed by yelling. My eyes flew open again to see it was the male who was making all the noise. I blinked tears away and appraised the situation more closely. Before, it was only Greg I had honed in on. Now I noticed that Greg’s opponent wasn’t faring too well. It seemed Greg had been busy breaking bones.

  The old bastard vampire’s jaw had been broken and was hanging strangely to one side. His nose was busted. While not pretty originally, he currently resembled a smashed crab. One foot was turned so that he was walking on the outside edge of his foot instead of the sole.

  Greg’s leg whipped up to the side then forward, his shin smashing into the back of his opponent’s leg. There was a cracking sound as he broke the guy’s femur. The vampire let out an ear-piercing scream as he fell. Then he stared in disbelief at his thigh bone, which at present, was jutting out of the front of his leg at a forty-five-degree angle.

  The hope that flared in me was huge. Greg had a chance at killing this demon.

  My hope lasted all of ten seconds.

  Greg suddenly lost his footing. He stumbled back and leaned heavily against the wall on the side of the lane. It seemed he was having difficulty focussing. He shook his head, attempted to stand upright, only to slump back again.

  He was losing too much blood.

  His whole body was dripping with it. His gaze lifted and locked onto mine. He slid down the wall until he was sitting.

  The male vampire scrabbled over to Greg and punched him in the face repeatedly. I screamed. The female yelled at her companion to stop. She said something else; I couldn’t understand what.

  I was trying to see Greg’s face. I couldn’t, as his head was hanging down towards his chest. The male then grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked Greg’s head upright, so he was looking at me again.

  The female dragged me into a sitting position. She crouched slightly behind and to my right. Whatever they had planned next, I knew I wouldn’t like it. I sucked in a deep breath and then with all my strength, jammed my elbow back into the female, hoping to get her in the solar plexus or at least a floating rib.

  I heard her grunt as I jumped to my feet and spun around to face her. The old bitch was too quick and already upright. She kicked me in the side of my knee. There was a sickening crunching sound as my knee buckled inwards. I screamed, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  Greg’s voice was raw and shredded as he yelled my name. As I lay on my side on the cobblestones, blackness blurred the edges of my vision and I expected I would pass out. Please let me see Greg. I didn’t want to close my eyes and never see him again.

  Distress at the thought that this was the end for us, made me fight the passing-out bullshit. After everything we’ve been through, this can’t be the end for us. It just can’t. I yelled in my head, Do you hear that, universe?

  The universe granted me my wish to lay eyes on Greg again.

  Sadist McBitchballs grabbed me and yanked me up so I was sitting again, facing Greg. The pain that exploded in what used to be my knee almost made me vomit. I screamed and watched bright white stars burst behind my eyelids.

  Fuck you, universe. Fuck you so hard.

  ‘Ana,’ Greg moaned.

  After my last futile attempt at attacking Ballbag, I was now a bit closer to where Greg was sitting. My hair was gathered up in a bony fist and draped over my left shoulder, exposing the right side of my neck.

  ‘Oh God, Ana.’

  Seeing the anguish in Greg’s eyes almost killed me. This was it then. The end of our story. I didn’t want to fight any longer. Instead, I wished I could die right that very second and save Greg the torment of watching what was to come.

  I felt Arse Casserole’s breath on the side of my neck. Almost overpowered by the malodorous stench, I quickly turned my head to get away from it. My brain rebelled at the sudden movement. Then my stomach followed suit. I threw up. Ugh! Throwing up was horrible. No wonder I’d avoided it for years. I was sure I would have kept on avoiding it, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  While I was labouring to recover from that awful business, Bitchlips licked up the side of my neck. And then I wailed in agony as she savagely tore into my throat.

  There was a searing pain like two hot pokers being stabbed into me and dragged through my flesh. Next, the sucking began. The pain was ridiculous.

  I ground my teeth together and refused to scream again. I wouldn’t do it because of Greg. He had tears streaming from his eyes and was crying my name over and over as he clawed at the ground with bleeding, torn-up fingers. He would have dragged himself over to me if not for the male who held him, not letting him move an inch.

  Each time Bitchwhatever sucked, it felt like razors inside every vein and artery. I could visualise my entire circulatory system. In my mind’s eye it was red and lit up. On fire.

  My body began to rebel as the life force was drained out of it.

  I gritted my teeth and internalised the pain. I clenched my fists. My breath burst from my nostrils, loud and harsh. Although I wasn’t shrieking, my body gave me away. I started shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t get a handle on it.

  Greg’s ragged cries slayed me. No matter how much I wanted to protect him from seeing me suffer, my self-control was losing the battle. Guttural noises escaped my mouth through clenched teeth.

  The next second, the fangs embedded in my throat were ripped out of me.

  I did scream then. Fucking bitchno—

  I must have blacked out for a bit. I came to, aware of a tugging sensation on the lower half of my body. I was also flat on my back, and my skull hurt even more than before. I must have fallen backwards and hit the cobblestones again.

  Also, Bitchnozzle was currently holding on to Greg. And Smashed Crab was crouched over me, tearing my skirt up to my panty line. As he admired th
e area where my femoral artery was located, I knew this was it. My body was shutting down. Death was a certainty. I could almost touch it. It felt cold. The little life I had left would soon be drained out of me.

  Helpless was a condition I knew well. This was on a whole other level. Helplessness while someone takes your life? I could taste it—bitter as fuck.

  I turned my gaze again towards Greg so he would be the last thing I saw. The absolute knowledge that this was the end of our time together, measured in seconds, punched me like a ham-handed fist in my stomach, taking breath I really couldn’t spare.

  Greg was doing something with his right hand. He had one of my new shoes and was pushing it against the ground, trying to break off the heel.

  The male above me moved into position on hands and one knee, his other leg dragging behind him, getting ready to sink his dirty fangs into me. With the lower half of his jaw hanging loose, I couldn’t fathom how he would suck. Maybe he would just tear me open and lap up what he wanted.

  His body was beginning to heal itself and his thigh wound was closing up with the bone still protruding out of it.

  Without mulling it over or even being aware I had made a conscious decision to do it, I acted. Seeing what Greg had been doing made some subconscious connection happen in my brain.

  I drew my good knee towards my shoulder and then kicked up and out.

  Loose Lips’ jutting-out femur snapped clean off. His unblinking oculars flew wide with shock. He screamed.

  Pushing back with his arms, he tried to get away. Unfortunately for him, one of his legs wasn’t cooperating. He teetered, not fully upright, on one leg for a second and then tumbled forward.

  I grabbed the length of bone that he was missing and reintroduced it to his body. I’d like to say I plunged into his chest. But I had no strength left. I wasn’t plunging shit. As he fell to the ground, though, I held it upright and hoped it would say hello to his heart. He let out a deafening, high-pitched keening sound as it pierced him. And I screamed like a mofo when I felt something in the side of my hand crack as it got crushed between him and the uneven-as-hell, ancient paving. If I never laid eyes on another cobblestone, it would be too soon.

  There was a raspy shrieking from over the way. Greg had Douchenugget by the ankle and was dragging her down. His right arm flicked up and then, with a swift downwards action, he jammed my stiletto heel into the female’s heart.

  The shrieking cut off and she went still.

  ‘Fuck you, you evil bitch,’ Greg gritted out.

  A moment later he was at my side. A terrible sound of anguish bubbled out of him. He rolled the male off my arm. A hot rush of nausea swept through me as my hand moved. Apart from a possible broken bone, my pinkie finger and wrist weren’t feeling too frigging fabulous, either.

  ‘Ana. My baby girl,’ he cried, frantically pressing kisses to my hair. Putting a hand over my throat, he applied pressure where I could still feel blood seeping out of the wounds the female had made. I wanted to cling to Greg, press my face into his chest and have him wrap his arms around me. Instead, I lay unmoving, spread eagle on the ground, a butterfly pinned to a specimen board. Unlike a dead butterfly specimen, I burst into tears, sobbing, choking and generally being noisy and gunky.

  I wished we could be anywhere else apart from where we were. I prayed to God, which was something I was not in the habit of doing. I wasn’t about to send wishes out into the universe because the universe was a giant fuck-knuckle.

  Greg’s body stiffened and pulled away from me slightly. I swallowed my sobs and became aware of a gurgling sound coming from the male. Apparently, relocating his thighbone to his chest cavity wasn’t going to keep him down.

  ‘Oh Greg, he’s not dead.’

  ‘Shit. I need to burn or behead this motherfucker.’

  ‘With what?’ My voice went high-pitched. We didn’t even have a cigarette lighter, let alone a sword. I don’t even know why I bothered carrying my handbag; it had not one bloody useful thing in there.

  Greg’s eyes widened. ‘Fuck no!’ he uttered with pure disbelief as he turned his attention to the end of the street.

  I was too frightened to ask. Judging by Greg’s demeanour, I was sure I wouldn’t like it, and there was the distinct possibility that it would end in my death.

  His eyes scrunched closed for a second and his lips pressed together tightly as a look of pain crossed his features. His gaze, when it returned to mine, held pure desolation. ‘I’m sorry I brought you here, my beautiful Ana. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I—’ He choked on the words. A single tear ran down his ravaged face.

  ‘I love you, Greg. I love you with all my heart and soul. I will go on loving you forever.’ My own tears flowed fast, relentlessly; hot liquid grief, they ran into my ears and my hair. They overwhelmed me. I could drown in them.

  Footsteps, quick-paced and harsh as they struck the cobblestones, came towards us. The sound echoed off the walls along the laneway. Greg managed to scramble to his feet. He took a few steps and placed himself between me and the direction from which the footsteps were coming.

  A familiar raspy screech alerted us to the fact that the female had now roused. One minute she was lying there all unmoving, sprouting the latest in designer footwear from her chest, the next, she was launching herself at Greg.

  There was a confusing flurry of motion that I could barely make out. From my vantage point, all I could see was nothing with intermittent blurs of black in my peripheral vision.

  I heard the screams, though. And the shrieks. And grunts.

  I held my breath. The motion ceased. It became deathly quiet.

  I had the overwhelming urge to scream Greg’s name, to call him until he came back to me. To sit up and see what the hell had happened. I stayed perfectly still. First, I was incapable of dragging myself into a sitting position if my life depended upon it. Second, maybe they would assume I had already expired and would leave me to peacefully rot in this alley. I closed my eyes and played dead.

  My cheek was smacked, four times in quick succession. I did my best not to flinch or react in any way. I prayed my body tensing up hadn’t given me away.

  They shook me.

  I felt icy cold and paralysed with fear. Please let them believe it’s rigor mortis. Please let them leave me alone. Please, please, please. I prayed to God as if we’d been best buds all this time and I hadn’t stopped talking to Him when I was a kid.

  ‘Ana?’ Greg’s frantic voice was at my ear. ‘Oh fuck, Ana!’

  My eyes popped open.

  Greg looked like he was in shock/having a cardiac arrest. ‘Jesus Christ, Ana. I thought you were…’

  I sucked in a ragged breath. The sight of Greg, battered as he was, sent such a wave of relief through me, I believe if I was standing, I would have fallen down. ‘I thought were…too.’ No one wanted to say the D-word. ‘I was pretending to be,’ dead, ‘so they’d leave me alone.’

  I subjected Greg to a quick visual scan. He was anaemically white, but the rate that the blood was trickling from his wounds seemed to have slowed. It could be a good thing in that those hundreds of cuts were slowly healing. Or it could be a bad thing in that he had no blood left to trickle.

  A man stepped into view behind Greg. Portly. Older. Smart black suit. Left hand behind his back. Right hand holding a fucking sword.

  I screamed. Once. Loudly. Then yelled at the top of my lungs, ‘Greg. Behind you!’ I tried to struggle away and got absolutely nowhere.

  Greg wasn’t leaping up to face his attacker. Instead, he was shushing me. ‘Shhh, Ana. It’s okay. It’s okay. Calm down. He’s on our side.’

  What? My gaze bounced back to the man. He nodded and smiled at me in what was presumably meant to be a reassuring, kindly way. His protruding fangs didn’t give me the warm and fuzzies.

  His attention turned to the male vampire with the thighbone location issues who was not only lying on the ground, gurgling, but now twitching as well.

  The old vam
pire sighed, stepped over to Thighbone, and with one swift stroke of his sword, lopped the head of the twitching guy right off.

  At that juncture, I saw what the older vampire had been holding behind his back. He held, grasped by her hair, the severed head of the female. Her wide-open eyes “looked” fixedly at me. She wasn’t smiling any longer.

  ‘Claudio,’ called the old vampire calmly as he tossed the head onto the street. It landed near Thighbone’s dislocated noggin, rolled, and came to a stop up against its former partner in crime. How romantic.

  There was a distinct possibility I would barf again.

  A man stepped out of the shadows. He gave a brief nod in both Greg’s and my direction and then proceeded to drag Doucheball’s body to join the collection of parts belonging to our ex-attackers. He poured something on them and set them alight. He was quick and efficient. It was obvious Claudio had done this before. It was also obvious that the newcomers to the scene carried much more useful things in their handbags than I did.

  The old man bowed in our direction. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lorenzo Gardini.’

  ‘Lorenzo, I’m Greg and this is Ana. I don’t know how to thank you for your help. Greg offered his hand to the old man. They shook hands.

  ‘My young friend, I must apologize for not arriving sooner and avoiding this…’ He waved his hand in the air, motioning to our injuries. ‘We have been trying to rid the city of these savages.’ He inclined his head in the direction of the smouldering pile in front of Claudio. ‘However, after centuries, they are quite proficient at hiding and therefore difficult to capture.’

  While he was talking, Lorenzo’s attention was on Greg’s wounds. Then he crouched and inspected me closely. ‘Tsk, tsk,’ he clucked disapprovingly, shaking his head. ‘Once again, please accept my apologies for what has befallen you on your visit to my city. I would like to offer my assistance. My home is not far, and I can help you to heal these terrible wounds and regain your strength.’

  I looked at Greg apprehensively. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in close contact with another vampire—even an exceedingly polite one—while wearing my fetching ensemble of wounds and blood.