Page 41 of Queen of His Heart
Everyone knew what Banshee’s liked to feed on. Even, apparently, her dinner- Or, er, future husband.
“Vladislophkykins, this is Mertle. Mertle, this is Vlady-poo, your new main beau.” Rez handed the Vamp off to the males wearing welding helmets, their skin steaming from where they’d already been smoked.
Rez collected his cash, counting it as he turned to leave.
Vlad began to scream then, blood curdling, ungodly noises. The smell of smoked flesh Rez him crinkling his nose. He hated barbecue. Rez stuffed the bills in his pocket and switched his ear plugs out for ear buds. Cranking the sound up, he whistled louder. He had about an hour to get food and be in his comfy chair in his underwear before a block of Lucy was on.
Life was good.
“Heaven help me!” the Vampire wailed as Rez pulled out an ear plug and rolled down his window. “AAAAAAAHHHH!”
Ethel’s engine purred so nicely as he put the car in gear and hit the gas. Me-rawr, sweetheart, Rez thought. “No heaven there.” Rez adjusted his rear mirror. No heaven here either in these devil’s eyes, he thought to himself, smirking.
That smirk turned into a grin, until he was smoking, literally, thinking about the Vampire’s face and the look of pure horror on it. Oh... this job definitely had its perks. His fingers shifted, until they were long claws, thick callouses forming along his skin. His horns were peeking, but he couldn’t help it. Mama always did like to tell him he took after his father’s side. His tail flicked the back of the seat, the forked end twitching near his ear.
Picking up his phone, he sent off the message he’d left sitting in his texts, waiting for this moment to be sent off, letting the Troll and his female know it had been handled. He owed them that. They needed a sense of peace after that bull shit.
What case would he be put on next, he wondered, and what could he stumble across that fit a Hellhound bent on diving knee deep in crazy?
He supposed he’d just have to find out.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he muttered, chucking his phone to the passenger seat to light up a cigar. His fingers flexed. Way too damn old.
And the matchmaking continues on!
The Actual End
