Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (16 page)

Snake threw his hands in the air, his obvious, ginormous erection fighting the constraints of his tight, doeskin pants. “You women confuse me!”

“Snake, you’re one of my oldest friends.” Reaching out, she grabbed his strong, calloused hand. “I treasure our friendship more than you know. If you truly care about me, then you’re more than welcome to shadow me like a loyal little puppy, while I occasionally use you to fill the void of Deadward’s absence.”

“Alright,” he shrugged before slanting a wry grin. “I guess I can live with that, if you promise a few benefits on the side.”

“Maybe some tongue kisses and groping.” She held out both hands, emphatically shaking her head. “But that’s where I draw the line. I’m not a whore.”

Grabbing one of her slender hands, Snake gingerly licked the tip of her pinky before moving on to the next finger. “Even if you gave me a hand job now and then, you still wouldn’t be a whore,” he spoke in between finger kisses, while playfully batting his lashes.

“I wouldn’t?” She sighed, dreamily transfixed as Snake worked his magic.

“No.” He shook his head while sucking on her thumb. “Only if we engage in vaginal penetration.”

Snake swirled his tongue in the center of her palm.

Her knees weakened, heat swarmed her body and that familiar tickling in her belly returned. Since she had just emptied her colon in the bathroom, Smella knew this wasn’t a fart. With each long stroke of Snake’s talented tongue, Smella’s will was weakening.

“I wouldn’t be compromising my loyalty to Deadward?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled while nodding toward the house. “We could even do oral penetration, and you’d still be faithful to pasty face.”

* * *

Several minutes later, Snake and Smella emerged from the house with huge goofy grins and looks of blissful satisfaction etched in their features, while they wiped their mouths with the backs of their sleeves.

Snake held a lit cigarette in one hand.

“I need to get back to the reservation,” he spoke after exhaling a large puff of smoke. “Did you want to hang out in my garage?”

“No!” Smella shrieked while she pushed Snake toward his motorcycle. “I should probably wait around all day just in case Deadward calls.”

“Have it your way,” Snake snarled while tossing his cigarette to the ground.

He jumped on his bike and peeled out of the gravelly driveway, leaving Smella standing there in a cloud of smoke.

Just then, a small car emerged in the distance. Smella squealed and ran into the house to powder her nose.

She raced back outside, only to be disappointed again as Sassy and Maria pulled into the drive in an older model compact car.

How was she supposed to pathetically strap herself down to one man and ignore the rest of the world if people kept offering her friendship?

Sassy stepped out of the driver’s seat and tipped her white Stetson. “Hey, Smella! Want to come to town with us?”

“Aye Dios Mio,” Maria cried through a crack in the window. “The Rodeo pageant is next week, and we don’t have dresses.”

Smella decided the best way to ditch them was to act like a disinterested bitch.

She shook her head. “I don’t do rodeo pageants.”

“That’s okay.” Sassy’s smile was about as wide as the brim of her hat. “We could still use your fashion advice.”

Grumbling under her breath, Smella realized evading an infectiously nice person like Sassy wasn’t going to be easy. “We shouldn’t be wandering town when a killer is on the loose.”

“We’re romance heroines,” Sassy chuckled. “We’re supposed to find danger.”

“But look what happened to Roxy,” Smella argued.

“Roxy was a whore. Virgins don’t get killed in romance novels,” Sassy stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, how else are heroes going to save us if we don’t find danger?”

“Good point. I guess I could tag along,” Smella answered with a little too much enthusiasm. Her sense of reasoning had been completely obscured by the prospect of being saved by Deadward. Then she could reward him with ‘thank you’ sex.

She jumped into the back of Sassy’s car and they sped away.

Chapter 8

The girls talked about mundane, stupid crap all the way to town, like Botox, eye shadow and the best brands of vaginal itching cream.

Whatever.

It wasn’t about Deadward, so not worth mentioning.

After walking into the dress shop with her friends, and promptly ditching them through a door in the back of the boutique, Smella found a nice dark alleyway. Hopefully, she would be accosted by someone nefarious and foul, so Deadward would mystically appear out of nowhere to save her from danger.

To Smella’s dismay, the only thing nefarious and foul in the alleyway was a trash bin full of severed cat heads behind Ming’s Chinese Restaurant.

So she decided to wait it out. Somebody creepy was bound to come along.

She sat on a pile of old phonebooks, while thumbing through the attorney section of the most current edition.

Strangely enough, Deadward’s practice wasn’t listed.

But Snake had said he was a bloodsucker. What else could he have meant?

“Hello, my beauty. Flabio has been waiting for you.”

Gasping, Smella jumped to her feet. She’d been too consumed in the yellow pages to notice an overweight, middle-aged man with long greasy hair and an artificial accent standing a few feet in front of her.

She squinted her eyes, trying to make out his features, but his face was mysteriously obscured by shadow.

Sassy was right. A villain had found her. So now where the hell was Deadward? She peered over Flabio’s shoulder while she tried to stifle a nervous giggle.

“Why so funny joke, my love?” he asked with a dark, menacing growl.

Turning up her chin, Smella looked into his dark reflection. “I’ve already found my true love. He’s far more hero-like than you are.”

“Flabio is God of Romance.” He pulled back his puffy white shirtsleeve to reveal a meaty bicep. “No man is better than Flabio.”

“Actually,” Smella waggled her finger at his distended midsection. “Flabio needs to lose a few pounds.”

“Flabio is not fat, you stupid romance whore!” The villain pulled back his large fist and charged her.

Smella quickly scanned her surroundings. She was conveniently backed up against a brick wall with no way out except past the charging villain.

“I’m no whore!” she cried while shielding her face with her hands. “Snake said oral penetration doesn’t count.”

Just as his fist was about to slam on top of Smella’s petite head, he dropped his stance and looked at her with puzzlement in his glazed-over expression. “Now you confuse Flabio with story about talking reptiles.”

Recognition flashed in Smella’s face, as she noted his prominent chin and dark eyes. “Hey, you’re that bartender!” she gasped. “Are you the one who poisoned Roxy’s beer?”

“You can’t pin anything on Flabio!” he screamed, pounding his chest like an ape before he abruptly stopped, tilted his head, and scrunched his features. “Flabio hear strange sound.”

Smella warily eyed the brute, wondering if maybe he was on crack. “I don’t hear anything.”

He held out a hand to silence her. “Sound like windup toy from Flabio’s childhood.”

Suddenly, Smella heard it too. The sound of Deadward’s Smart Car was sweet music to her ears. “Deadward has come to save me!” she cried while clasping her hands together.

Two tiny headlights came into view at the other end of the dark alley.

They both watched Deadward’s Smart Car maneuver down the narrow passage, evading garbage cans and tattered furniture.

Flabio checked his watch a few times.

Smella applied some lipstick.

The car stopped and Deadward jumped out.

“Get in the car!” he yelled at her while trying to shoo away Flabio like he was a stray dog.

She ran past a stunned Flabio, squeezed into the passenger seat and put on her safety belt.

“Oh, Deadward,” she wailed as he climbed into the seat beside her. “How did you know where to find me?”

He ignored her question, as he focused on driving backwards without knocking over trash cans.

Finally, he answered, “I followed the scent of your hair.”

“Deadward,” Smella pointed toward the end of the darkened alleyway, “I think that was the man who killed Roxy.”

“I can’t go back now.” He sucked in a rapid breath and coursed pale fingers through his hair in an attempt to show that he was on the edge of exploding. “I might do something I’d regret.”

Her mouth fell open, and she nodded in understanding. “Like maim or kill him?”

“No!” he snapped, looking rather irritated. “Like waste a gallon of gas only to find he’s left the scene.”

“How did you know to come looking for me? Are you a mind reader or something?”

“No, this is usually the point in the book where the heroine does something stupid and gets in trouble. What were you doing alone in an alley, anyway?”

“I was looking for a phone book,” she lied, not wanting to admit that she’d put herself in harm’s way only to make him rescue her.

“Why?” He glared, lips twisting into a scowl.

“I was trying to figure out who you are,” she squeaked, now feeling pretty stupid that she’d gone along with Sassy’s plan. Geez, Deadward was so smart. Romance heroines were so stupid. She really did feel inferior to his superior way of rationalizing.

He arched a brow, one corner of his mouth pulled back in a sexy smirk. “Any luck?”

“I have a few theories,” she confessed.

Deadward’s wan face took on an even whiter hue. Taking his eyes off the road, he turned toward her with a stoic expression. “Tell me.”

Smella warily eyed the road as the car swerved down the densely populated highway. “I will tell you if you face the road.”

Grumbling under his breath, Deadward tilted his head, so that one eye was focused on the highway.

Expelling a deep breath, Smella struggled for the right words. “Snake said you were a bloodsucker, so I researched lawyers in town, and I couldn’t find your office. So I was thinking you practiced under an alias.” She ended on a questioning tone, toying with her fingers while she waited for his response.

Deadward’s expression sharpened. “Snake tells you I’m a bloodsucker, and rather than taking the hint literally, you think I’m a lawyer?”

She giggled. “Was I wrong about the lawyer thing?”

Turning back toward her, he narrowed his heated gaze. “Dead wrong.”

She shrugged, splaying her palms wide. “A lobbyist?”

“Not even close,” he chuckled. “Try something a little more scary.”

She gnawed on her lower lip, taxing her brain for the right answer. “A commercial real estate broker?”

“Smella,” Deadward groaned. “Romance heroines aren’t supposed to think so hard. You’ll pull a muscle.”

“Just tell me already!” she snapped, slapping her thighs with tiny palms.

Deadward answered in a cold monotone, “I’m a vampire, Smella.”

She tilted hear head while scrunching her eyebrows. “You mean like a used car salesman?”

“No,” Deadward spat. “Like a vampire.” He opened his mouth, revealing two spiky incisors which grew into sharp points until they’d nearly reached his chin.

“Oh.” She spoke in a hollow, questioning whisper, her gaze transfixed on his fangs. Then she violently shook her head, blinked once, and gawked at his mouth. “Oh!” she screamed, while trying to jar open her car door.

“Are you crazy!” Deadward hollered while his fangs retracted. “I’m riding that semi’s current.” He pointed to the rear end of a large truck, which was precariously close to the Smart Car’s front bumper. “Don’t make me slow down or I’ll ruin my gas mileage!”

She held onto the door handle, peering at him through the corners of her eyes while her limbs trembled.

“You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

“No,” Deadward groaned. “As long as you don’t wash the shit fumes from your hair, you’re relatively safe.”

Smella gasped as she remembered the night before. The passion. The pain. The fart. “Was last night a dream, or did you really bite my lip?”

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “I was wearing a clothes pin on my nose. I won’t do that again.” Then his expression turned stoic, his eyes watering over with tears. “If you hadn’t blown me off of you with your explosive gas, I might have killed you.”

Inwardly, Smella was cringing. Not because he had almost killed her. She was mortified her sweet, dainty colon was capable of catapulting vampires.

Rather than acknowledge the fart, Smella pretended she didn’t hear Deadward’s confession. “So as long as my hair smells bad, you won’t eat me?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

Gnawing on her lower lip, Smella’s throat tightened at the realization that her one true love had considered her as a late night snack. “Have you ever eaten other girlfriends?”

Deadward’s expression hardened as he gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. “I don’t want to think about the monster I was in the past. I’ve reformed, Smella. My family and I are vegetarian, environmentalist vampires.”

Smella shook her head, hoping to kick-start her brain into thinking. “I don’t get it.”

“We only suck the blood of people who aren’t pro-environment or from animals that aren’t cute,” Deadward said matter-of-factly.

“So you won’t eat Al Gore or bunnies?”

“That’s right.” He casually shrugged a shoulder.

Mouth turned in a frown, Smella tried to decide if it was morally okay to date a man who feasted off the blood of Suburban-driving soccer moms and three-legged dogs.

But she’d never done well in her junior college philosophy courses. And at the moment, she couldn’t remember all of the bible commandments, so she figured her lack of understanding the difference between right and wrong would excuse her from any accountability if she decided to continue dating Deadward.

“I guess that’s okay.” She shrugged.

Deadward flashed a jagged smile that stretched nearly ear to ear. “Would you like to meet my family?”

“Sure,” she squealed with a little too much excitement. “How about next Tuesday?”

“I thought I’d drive you to my house now.” He pointed to a dirt road in the distance that snaked off the highway and disappeared behind an unusual overgrowth of evergreen pine trees. “Unless you want this book to drag on for 600 pages.”