Bite Me

you back to the ship.”
    He grinned, showing his fangs, then started a steady climb up the sheer corner of the building.
    Bella pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, shook one out, lit it, then blew a long stream of smoke up after Rolf. “What if Elijah lied about turning more humans? He’s lied before.”
    When they’d retrieved the old vampire from the City initially he’d brought along a blond vampire woman, claiming she was the only one. She hadn’t survived the first month at sea. Weak vessels, they called her type.
    “He didn’t admit turning the cat, either, until we found the news stories on the Internet.”
    “We need to talk to him again when we get back to the ship, if there’s time.”
    Rolf thumped to the pavement beside them. “That way. About six blocks. There’s a sunburst pattern that’s centered there and spreads out ten blocks or so in every direction. I could actually see a hundred or so cats on a roof there.”
    “Let’s go, then,” said Makeda.
    “That’s not all,” said Rolf. “There is a group of men hunting them. Eight of them.”
    “How do you know they’re hunting the cats?”
    “Because two of them lit up their coats. If I hadn’t been wearing the glasses I’d be blind. They’re wearing the sun jackets that Elijah warned us about.”
    “Well, fuck,” said Makeda. “That’s eight more we have to kill.”
    “At least,” said Rolf. “How much time before daylight?”
    “Two and a half hours,” said Bella, checking her watch. “Don’t we have a sniper rifle on the ship?”
    “Somewhere,” said Rolf.
    “Well, they can’t turn on a sun jacket if they’re dead before we’re within five hundred yards.”
    “Messy,” said Makeda. “Bullets leave bodies.”
    “I’d rather have to dispose of a couple of bodies than get fried by a sun jacket,” said Bella, taking charge now. “Rolf, you and I will go after the cats. Take out as many as we can. Makeda, follow the hunters, keep your distance, see where they go, and meet us back at the ship. Tonight cats. Tomorrow night, humans.”
    “I hate cats,” said Makeda.
    “I know,” said Bella.
    “There’s something else,” said Rolf. “There was something else on the roof with the cats. Something bigger.”
    “What do you mean ‘something’?” asked Makeda.
    “I don’t know,” said Rolf, “but it wasn’t putting out any heat, so it’s one of us.”

20
Hunters
    TOMMY AND ABBY
    Somehow it had seemed to make sense that he follow Abby’s interpretation of Madame Natasha’s reading, but now, standing on the dock by the black ship, with the night almost gone, he wasn’t so sure.
    “You think she’s in there?”
    “She could be. I saw in the City Blog that this ship arrived—there was a picture, and it looked cool, and—oh, I don’t know, I’m new at this. You can’t expect me to be good at everything. Why don’t you go all misty and sneak aboard?”
    They heard bare feet on teak and suddenly a gorgon of blond dreadlocks popped up over the top of the smooth black carbon fiber of the cockpit.
    “Irie bruddah. Irie sistah. Howzit?” A young man, very tan, heat coming off him, but with a thin black ring inside his life aura.
    Abby elbowed Tommy and he nodded to show he’d seen it.
    “What did he say?” Tommy asked.
    “I don’t know,” Abby said. “It sounds Australian. If he goes off about going down under to have a go on his dirigity-doo I’m going to kick him in the kidneys with my forbidden love Chucks.”
    “Okey dokey,” Tommy said.
    The blond guy held up a pair of night-vision binoculars, looked quickly through them, then set them down again. “Shoots! You be deadies! Jah’s love to ya, me deadies!”
    He vaulted up over the edge of the cockpit, landed on the deck eight feet below, then jumped over to the dock. He was very fit, very muscular, and smelled of fish blood and weed.
    “Pelekekona called Cap’n Kona, pirate of the briny science, lion of Zion, and dreadie to deadies of the first order, don’t you know.”
    He extended his hand to Tommy, who shook it, tentatively. “Tommy Flood,” Tommy said, then, because he felt as if he should have a title, added, “writer.”
    Then the blond Rasta man took Abby in his arms, hugged her, and kissed her on both cheeks, then let his hands linger on her back and slide down. He let go when she bent one of his fingers back, driving him to his knees. “Back off, you fucking hemp Muppet! I am Countess Abigail Von Normal,