“Whoo-hoo…”

  All of a sudden, a freaky noise came from the hallway.

  Next up was the sound of something slithering and crawling.

  It was heading straight for Billy Jean and Michael Joke.

  Billy Jean caught a whiff of it and her heart skipped a beat.

  It was a mutant.

  Must’ve been lured by the scent of Michael Joke’s blood from before.

  “Roar…”

  Billy Jean let out a warning growl, marking her territory, praying it’d back off.

  But fat chance.

  That thing was stronger.

  Normally, Billy Jean wouldn’t scrap with a mutant over grub.

  She’d just skedaddle and hunt for something else.

  But for some odd reason tonight, she wasn’t budging.

  Maybe ’cause she’d finally found a meal that tickled her taste buds and wasn’t about to let it go without a fight.

  “Whoo-hoo…”

  The mutant’s creepy-crawly sounds were getting louder.

  It belched out a kind of top-dog intimidation, trying to make Billy Jean hand over the food like a good little vampire.

  The regular vampires milling around the hotel sensed this pecking order and scrammed one after another.

  In a flash, every nook and cranny of the hotel was vampire-free.

  Under that social hierarchy pressure, Billy Jean couldn’t help but shudder.

  It was like they said:

  Higher-ups could squash you like a bug.

  But who was Billy Jean?

  She had a hundred pounds of sass, ninety pounds of rebel spirit.

  Nobody could boss her around.

  So what if it was a big shot?

  She had an immortal body, for Pete’s sake.

  Who was she scared of?

  Billy Jean swiveled to look at Michael Joke and saw his face was all serious.

  He seemed to know they were in for a rough ride too.

  "Stay put in the room. No matter what you hear later, don’t you dare come out."

  After Billy Jean said that, she moseyed towards the door.

  But Michael Joke’s warm hand yanked her back.

  “You stay. I’ll handle this.”

  No sooner had he spoken than the door caved in.

  “Boom…”

  There at the door was a four-legged critter, with fingernails sharp as switchblades and a body like a wiggly blob of goo.

  Gross.

  “Whoo-hoo… Starving, so starving."

  Its glowing green eyes locked onto Michael Joke, and a stream of stinky drool oozed from its maw.

  Its tongue flicked in and out like a snake’s.

  “Roar… This is my food. I’ll rustle up something else for you."

  Billy Jean tried to cut a deal.

  “Whoo-hoo… You, a nobody vampire, got some nerve."

  The mutant’s green eyes flared up.

  Its hind leg muscles tensed, and it pounced at Billy Jean.

  “Whoo-hoo… I’ll take care of you first."

  Michael Joke’s eyes narrowed to slits and he stepped in front of Billy Jean.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A thunder whip materialized in his palm, a web of tiny lightning bolts crackling and snapping.

  The air around it warped, showing its raw power.

  Billy Jean’s cloudy peepers twitched.

  She didn’t see that coming.

  Michael Joke was a badass thunder-attribute psychic.

  Michael Joke’s eyes were ice-cold as he cracked the whip.

  “Whoo…”

  The mutant got walloped by the thunder whip and screeched, flying backward.

  It was already dead as a doornail, and pain was a foreign concept.

  But that whip?

  It hit like a bolt of soul-piercing agony.

  Billy Jean watched the mutant get sent packing, writhing in pain.

  Should she be relieved Michael Joke didn’t do that to her?

  The mutant staggered to its feet, shook its woozy head,

  “Whoo-hoo…”

  Its voice dripped with rage.

  Its fingernails shot out, doubling in length, and it swiped.

  A couple of see-through blades sliced through the air at Michael Joke.

  Michael Joke spun around and looped an arm around Billy Jean’s waist, dodging like a pro.

  The blades whizzed by and shattered the floor-to-ceiling window.

  “Boom…”

  Glass rained down.

  Before Michael Joke could blink, the mutant was on him.

  “Whoo…”

  The mutant’s razor-sharp nails jabbed at Michael Joke’s neck.

  Michael Joke leaned away, but his neck still got nicked, three thin lines of blood welling up.

  The mutant caught a whiff of the blood and went berserk, its tongue reaching for Michael Joke’s neck.

  Next thing you know, a flash of cold steel, and the mutant’s head went flying, blood spurting everywhere.

  The mutant’s body hit the deck, revealing Billy Jean behind it, machete in hand.

  Billy Jean curled her rigid lips into a spine-tingling grin.

  Underestimating her?

  Big mistake.

  Billy Jean teasingly stuck out her tongue and lapped up the blood on her face, taking a tiny sip.

  “Ugh…”

  The mutant was hideous on the outside, and its blood?

  Even worse.

  No wonder Michael Joke’s blood was the cat’s meow.

  Billy Jean eyed Michael Joke and saw the blood on his neck.

  A glimmer of red flashed in her eyes.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s just a scratch. No biggie.”

  Michael Joke fished out a clean hanky and was about to dab the wound.

  Halfway there, Billy Jean snatched his hand.

  The next second, something cold pressed against his neck.

  Michael Joke’s body tensed up.

  He stood stock-still.

  Something stirred in his dark eyes.

  Billy Jean tiptoed and carefully sucked the blood beads oozing from the wound, then licked the surrounding blood with her tongue.

  Her tongue glided over his slender neck, and it was... something else.

  Michael Joke’s fist clenched tighter and tighter, and his eyes darkened.

  The spot she licked felt hot and trembled.

  Memories came flooding back.

  Once upon a time, they were this close.

  His big hand inched towards Billy Jean’s tiny waist, about to reel her in, but she pushed him away.

  “Okay.”

  The fire in Michael Joke’s eyes died down.

  He realized what he’d been thinking and frowned.

  He was nuts.

  She could get under his skin with just a little flirting.

  Hadn’t he learned his lesson three years ago?

  “I’m hitting the sack.”

  Michael Joke hightailed it out of the room like his pants were on fire.

  Billy Jean didn’t stop him.

  The sweet, delicious blood, the artery under her tongue, it was all too tempting.

  Lord only knew how much self-control she’d mustered to keep from biting him.

  Billy Jean tamped down her craving for Michael Joke’s blood and turned to the mutant’s head.

  Oh!

  Social hierarchy, huh?

  “Boom…”

  Billy Jean cleaved the mutant’s head in two with one swing of the machete.

  A see-through crystal the size of a thumbnail tumbled out.

  Billy Jean scooped it up, wiped it on her clothes, and popped it in her mouth, crunching away.

  Tasted like nothing.

  But her brain tingled, like something was sprouting.

  Billy Jean stretched and peeked at the moon hanging high outside.

  Must be around two in the morning.

  Still time to meet her gal pals.

  They were all night owls, after all.

  The long night would be a snooze-fest without some fun.

  Billy Jean cocked an ear next door.

  Silence.

  So she slipped out.

  All the vampires had cleared out of the hotel.

  All you could hear was Billy Jean’s footsteps.

  The corridor lights flickered like crazy.

  Spooky as hell.

  If this was before, Billy Jean might’ve been a scaredy-cat.

  But now?

  She was a walking corpse.

  If anyone should be scared, it was the other guys shivering in their boots at the sight of her.

  Billy Jean strolled out of the hotel.

  She had no clue she had a little shadow tagging along.

  Night was vampire paradise.

  There were vampires leaping and howling on car roofs.

  vampires squatting in the middle of the road, chowing down on hunks of meat.

  vampires smashing shop windows with bricks.

  And a whole bunch just wandering around, shaking their heads like they were lost.

  Billy Jean weaved through them like a pro.

  She bumped into some familiar faces.

  “Roar… Finda, didn’t I tell you not to strut around in those goofy flowered undies? You never listen!"

  “Roar… You don’t get it. This is haute couture."

  Finda flipped his luscious locks.

  Whoops. His whole scalp went flying, leaving just a bloody skull.

  “Roar… I’ll be damned!!"

  Finda tore off after his scalp.

  Billy Jean shook her head in disbelief and glanced at the hefty, jiggling female vampire.

  “Roar… Mrs. Hin, out hunting for your hubby again? Mr. Hoki should be on Bar Street. I saw him last week. Give it a shot there."

  “Roar… Thanks, sweetie Billy."

  Mrs. Hin waddled by, leaving a trail of rancid grease.

  “Ugh…”

  Billy Jean covered her nose in disgust and picked up the pace.

  “Boom…”

  Billy Jean wasn’t watching where she was going and kicked a skateboard.

  A half-vampire that’d been riding it tumbled off.

  “Roar… It’s you again, Billy Jean."

  The half-vampire bellowed.

  “Roar… Damn it! Bosly, what the heck happened to you?"

  “Roar… You got some nerve asking. Didn’t you forget you slammed the door in my face last time?"

  Billy Jean’s slow brain finally clicked.

  “Roar… Sorry, it slipped my mind. I’ll scoop you up."

  “Roar… Say you’re sorry… What! Scoop… up? Then be gentle."

  The tough Bosly turned all bashful and batted his eyelashes at Billy Jean.

  “Roar… Bosly, don’t worry. I’ll be as gentle as a lamb."

  Billy Jean tugged at her stiff lips, trying to smile sweetly.

  But her face was like stone.

  No matter how she tried, it was that creepy, bone-chilling grin.

  Seeing Billy Jean being so nice, Bosly got even shyer, his head full of fantasies.

  Does she like me?

  She must like me.

  She must’ve done that last time to get my attention.

  The next second, he was in free-fall.

  Bosly, tumbling down the sewer, looked up and saw Billy Jean waving from the manhole cover, getting smaller and smaller.

  “Roar… Aah!! Billy Jean, you ain’t seen the last of me."

  Billy Jean slapped the manhole cover back on and dusted off her hands.

  She hopped on Bosly’s skateboard and skated away like a champ.

  She was an angel, the nicest of the nice.