Bite Me

emergency backup mistress of the Greater Bay Area darkness.”
    “Countess?” Tommy said out of the corner of his mouth.
    “And a slim and delicious deadie biscuit, too, as fine as a snowflake, yeah,” said Kona. “No harm, me deadies, I’n’I have grand Aloha for ya, but can’t bring ya on the ship. That Raven ship will kill ya dead for good, don’t cha know. But we can chant down Babylon right here, mon.” He produced a pipe and lighter out of the pocket of his baggies. Out of the other he pulled a sterile lancet, the kind diabetics use to poke their fingers for blood tests. “If one of me new deadie dreadies would donate to a mon’s mystic. Jus’ a drop two.”
    Abby looked at Tommy. “Renfield,” she said, rolling her eyes.
    Tommy nodded. She was talking about Renfield, the crazed blood slave of Dracula in the original Bram Stoker novel. The original “bug eater.”
    “Maybe we can help you with that,” Tommy said.
    Abby said, “You’re not worthy of our aid, not worthy to be free, and we would surely both be tools, to help you, vampire fool.” She curtsied. “Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal . I’m paraphrasing, of course.”
    “Nice,” Tommy said. She knew her romantic poetry, not very well, or accurately, but she knew it.
    “Ah, mon, I tried dat paraphrasing in Mexico one time. The boat, she stop too quick and dis brutha drop out da sky like one rock. No mon, Kona doan like de heights.”
    “Not parasailing, you imbecile, paraphrasing.”
    “Oh. Dat diffren.”
    “Ya think,” said Abby.
    Tommy said, “Kona, I will give you a drop of blood, but first, are you saying that this ship belongs to vampires?”
    “Ya mon. Me deadie masters, mon. Powerful old.”
    “Are they on the ship now?”
    “No, mon. They here to fix up this calamity. Vampire cats dat old one leave.”
    “Just the cats?”
    “No mon, dey clean it all up. All the peoples have seen them, or know about it. They cleaning house, brah.”
    Abby shook her head like she had water in her ears. Tommy knew how she felt. “So, these old vampires are here to take out witnesses and whatnot, and they left you in charge of this ship? Just you?”
    “Oh yeah, sistah. Kona ichiban top-rate pirate captain of briny science.”
    “Why would they do that? You’re not even trying to keep a secret.”
    Kona let his good-time bravado slip, his shoulders slumped, and when he answered, the breezy island bullshit accent was gone, “Why would anyone believe a word I say?”
    “Good point,” Tommy said.
    “And besides, you two already knew about vampires. No heat in the night-vision goggles.”
    “Also a good point,” Tommy said. “So these are the vampires who came to get Elijah?” Abby had told Tommy that the Emperor had seen Elijah and the hooker, Blue, leaving with three vampires, taking a small boat out into the fog off the St. Francis Yacht Club.
    “Ya, mon. Dat old bloodsucka be locked up below now, air tight. Dat buggah stone crazy, him.”
    Tommy expected a chill of sorts, but instead of alarm, he felt his senses and mental acuity almost tightening down. There was no flight response, only fight. That was new.
    He said, “So Elijah, the hooker, and how many others?”
    “Just the three, mon. No hooker. She second gen vamp, mon. They doan make it long. Curl up and die for good, she.”
    Abby stepped up and tried to grab Kona by the throat, but her hand was too small and she just ended up knocking him over on the dock. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck are you talking about, Medusa?”
    “Oh, dey doan tink Kona know, but only dem vamps Elijah make live long time. How ’bout a drop of Zion, now, brah?” Kona held the lancet out to Tommy.
    Tommy was stunned. “One more thing. Why would they bring the ship back here? They had to know that we blew up Elijah’s yacht.”
    “Ya mon, but the Raven, she ain’t like dat. She protect herself.” Kona held up his arm and Tommy noticed for the first time he was wearing something that looked like a dog’s shock collar on his wrist. “If I doan have dis here on, da Raven kill Kona dead dead, too. She knows. She knows them three. Anyone else, she send to Davy Jones.”
    Tommy took the lancet from Kona, unwrapped it, and pricked his finger with it.
    “Not going to happen,” Abby said, catching Tommy’s hand as he was holding his bleeding finger out to Kona. “You are not getting dirty hippie mouth on you. You might be dead but you can catch heinous