It wasn’t far. And the momentum drove him into the seat where a forearm could jam his throat against the seat back, and an opposite hand could manacle his wrist to the side table, where the gun dropped easily among the other useless paraphernalia.
Because when the wolf couldn’t bluff his way into the house of Brix, he should have just used his teeth.
How fast can get you through a liter? About two pints? That’s approximately the amount of traumatic blood loss required before unconsciousness kicks in. Then you can stop for a breather (so to speak), then continue pouring drinks at your leisure.
So I stood back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and looking at my handiwork. And right at that moment, the light that Brix had switched on in the kitchen earlier finally made it to my brain.
What the fuck was I doing? This had been fun – this had been fucking, bloody brilliant fun. Brix shitting himself and facing me down anyway – it was more gratifying than I knew how to deal with. This was the same joyous twang of relief when I saw Amelia huddled in the attic, and heard Kane abuse the shit out of me over the phone – that I hadn’t actually killed them when I had the chance. Because they were fucking unpredictable disturbing disruptions to my existence. And if you cull the annoying, dangerous, dodgy, damaged people and all the shit they bring with them out of your fucking life, what the hell are you left with?
High school. A Cat. Staring at flickering screens, going out on the same old grocery runs, slogging through dull classes or coming up with tired excuses to get out of them.
What the fuck was I thinking? Brix was fair game when he was shaping up to be boring and banal – but then he reformed. And he’s still evolving – he’s just going to get more threatening, and more problematic, and more difficult to deal with. And thank fuck for that. Bring it on.
So he’s gonna be fine by the way. Anaemic and light-headed for a few days, and furious and bloody-minded permanently after that, but fine. I staunched the bleeding before I left, and tidied up a bit. And savored the rusty taste of of a broken stalemate.
But shit. I can’t believe I nearly killed off one of the few things in the long, meandering melee of my existence that broke me out of my dull, jaded routine and put a spark back into the hunt. Why the fuck didn’t one of you stop me?
Yeah – you.
You sitting out there reading this.
You would’ve just let me take down Brix before he’s even reached his nemesis prime, and thus return to the dreary round of everyday immortality, wouldn’t you?
Quick, gratuitous pleasure, then you would have been forcing me back to the same kind of shithouse life you’re dealing with yourself right now…
Fuck that.
Embrace the bad stuff. It reminds you who you are – it puts real fucking color into the pastels of mundanity.
Shit happens – thank fuck.
Shit like Brix.
Musings of a High School Vampire 