High Noon at Hot Topic by Christine Pope (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

“You change nothing, Gregoire. I made thosetwo. I can make more.” He turned slightly, and I found myselfsuddenly skewered by a pair of piercing dark eyes. So much fortrying to remain inconspicuous. “That one, for example. Not quiteup to my standards, but at least she already has the wardrobe.”

Not up to his standards? Okay, so I wasn’tquite as bonelessly thin and supernaturally polished as hisprevious companions, but that didn’t quite qualify me forbag-over-my-head status.

“I wouldn’t try it.” Gregoire flickered aquick glance in my direction, and I saw his mouth harden. “At anyrate, you’d have to get past me first.”

“You say that as if it would cause me somedifficulty.”

The blade descended, and Gregoire lifted thestake he carried to block the blow. Whatever wood that thing wasmade of, it had to be unbelievably strong. Almost at the samemoment, he swept it around in a vicious arc, connecting with thevampire’s ribs in a resounding crack. Not point-first,unfortunately, but it had to have hurt like hell.

The Trio’s leader did wince but thendelivered a kick worthy of a judo master. It caught the stake atexactly the wrong angle, and it flew out of Gregoire’s hands.

Only to land a foot away from me.

I didn’t stop to think. There wasn’t time. Ilunged for the stake, felt the smooth wood under my searchingfingertips. I wrapped my hands around it and jumped to my feet.

Gregoire didn’t seem to have missed a beat.Deprived of his weapon, he grasped one of the clothing racks,wrenched it loose from the wall, and hurled it at the vampire’shead. Black spandex and gleaming PVC rained down everywhere. Iheard a curse but didn’t stop to figure out whether it had comefrom Gregoire or his opponent. The vampire was distracted. I hadonly one chance.

I had to thrust the stake upward, since hewas taller than I. Somehow I’d thought his undead flesh would offermore resistance, but the sharpened piece of wood drove smoothlythrough his chest. It sort of reminded me of the time I’d gone toGirl Scout camp and had to help pound tent stakes intorain-softened earth.

At least this time I was ready for the showerof dust that followed. I closed my eyes and felt bits of dissolvedvampire settle on my bare arms and my eyelashes.

A hand descended on my shoulder, and Istarted, then blinked. Gregoire stood in front of me, staring downinto my face with a sort of bemused wonder.

“You killed him,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” I replied. “Wasn’t that whatyou were trying to do?”

“Of course. But he was — ” He hesitated, thensaid, “I’ve been hunting him for a very long time. He was a master.For a master to be killed by a complete amateur is unheard of.”

“That so?” I brushed vampire dust off my armsand shot Gregoire an arch look. “Guess he shouldn’t have made thatremark about me not being up to his standards, then.”

“Hell hath no fury.”

“Damn straight.”

To my surprise, he grinned at me. “What onearth are you doing working retail?”

“Glut of humanities majors.” Maybe I wasflattering myself, but I thought I caught an admiring glint in hiseyes. “Are you saying vampire hunting pays better?”

The grin remained in place. “Somewhat.”

I stared down at the mess of vampireexplosions all over the floor and wondered whether even the store’sindustrial-strength vacuum cleaner would be up to the task ofgetting it all out of the carpet. Something struck me, though, as Istared down at the abandoned clothing the undead Trio had onceworn, scattered amongst the new pieces that had come falling downwhen Gregoire pulled the clothes rack out of the wall. Corporatewould have a fit if we had to declare all that a loss.

“It’s noon,” I said. “I thought vampirescouldn’t go out in daylight.”

In answer, Gregoire bent down and retrievedone of the redhead’s patent leather platform boots. He tapped afinger against the chunky rubber sole. “Hollow. They fill thesewith their native earth. The sun still hurts their eyes, and theywill burn if they stay out in it too long, but this helps them toblend in.”

“I wouldn’t say they blended that well. Kindof stuck out in a crowd, if you ask me.”

“Somewhat. But this subculture suits themwell. It’s recognizable, and, as I said, the footwear suits theirpurposes.”

As I was pondering that remark, Martinestaggered over to us. She stared down at the mess of dust anddiscarded clothing on the floor and pointed at it. “He — they —what — ”

Martine wasn’t coherent at the best of times,but this was bad even for her. Gregoire didn’t appear particularlyperturbed by her babbling, however. He passed a hand over her faceand murmured, “Forget.”

The false eyelashes fluttered again, and thenshe stood up a little straighter. In almost normal tones sheannounced, “I’m going to get the vacuum,” and disappeared back intothe stockroom.

“Neat trick,” I commented.

“It does come in handy.”

Those blue-gray eyes suddenly seemed a littletoo piercing. I glanced away, then said, “I probably should helpher — ”

“I would rather you helped me, Kara.”

Nonplused, I just stood there, not sureexactly what he meant.

The smile returned. “You appear to have somenatural talent. Or would you rather stay here and foldT-shirts?”

After all, he had told me that vampirehunting paid better than retail. When he put it that way…

I didn’t even hesitate. “Let me go get mypurse,” I said.