Page 15 of Evil Hearts

But I’m running out of time. If I had a pulse, it’d be slamming against my ribcage right now. Instead of waiting for the Helsings to put a stake through my un-beating heart, I decide to chance it with the sewer monster.

I scurry from my hiding spot and slide with all the finesse of a drunk punk, which is to say none at all, right into the gap. I expect to collide with my mystery savior but find myself falling several feet until I land in the cold water below.

Literal shit water. And now I’m covered in it. Lovely.

The footsteps above us plod right past the sewer grate, and I can hear the officer’s muffled voices as I pull myself out of the water and onto the narrow concrete walkway. Made it just in time so they didn’t see me fall down here. Score.

I run my fingers through my piss-soaked hair and shudder. “Oh, that’s disgusting,” I mutter. “Thanks for that, though. Big help, love.”

I turn to shake the hand of the one who saved me, but recoil in horror when I come face to face with the most hideous monster I’ve ever seen. The skeletal creature before me is sallow-skinned and bald, with pointed ears and sharp teeth that mirror my own. She’s a vampire, yeah, but … also not.

This chick is also wearing some strange dress that looks lifted from a Ren fair, with tattered skirts that drag limply on the ground. Her dress’s neckline, which I don’t dare allow myself to look directly at, is perilously low, and her dark gray chest is soconcave, it looks like it’s been caved in with a mace. Her ribs are clearly visible even underneath the fabric. Fuck me, it’s a disturbing sight.

“’Ecky thump!” I cry. “The hell are you, lass?”

The woman blinks her red eyes. She must notice my obvious revulsion, because her face falls before she mutters something in what I think is French.

I rub the back of my neck and say, “Uh. Righ’ then.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Évidemment.”

Shrugging, I say, “Yeah. Sure.” I look anywhere but at her. Too ugly, even for a vamp.

The woman, if you can even call her that, clears her throat and wipes her hands on her scraps of dress. “I only speak English and French,” she explains.

I stand a bit straighter and force myself to smile at her. “Oh! ’Ow do, then? Didn’t know you spoke English. That makes things easier.”

She scowls at me. “That is what you call English? I thought you were speaking in tongues,” she says, then sniffs the air. Oof. Snooty little lass, I see. “Your accent is loud and incomprehensible.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I mutter, “Yeah, Yorkshire. Sorry, love. Not all of us sound like feckin’ Hugh Grant.”

Juliette bares her fangs at me, and I wince. “Non. Je suis Juliette, not ‘love.’ Remember it. And I do not know what a ‘Hugh Grant’ is.”

Blinking, I take a step backward. Juliette? That’s a surprisingly beautiful name for such an ugly woman, but okay. Maybe she was hotter in life? Who knows? It could go either way with us. But I’ve never encountered a vampire who looked anything like this. Or one who willingly hung out in the sewers.

“Okay,” I say, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. “Juliette, then. That’s a pretty name. Are you, uh … French?”

I wince again at how stupid the question sounds the moment it leaves my lips. Is she French? Dude. She’sspeakingFrench, you idiot.

Juliette, to her credit, is either too gracious to call me out on my dumbassery, or she didn’t understand me thanks to my accent. Or maybe she’s ignoring me entirely, because she simply waves me along and begins to walk down the long strip of concrete lining the sewer. I flatten my back against the wall as I follow her inch by agonizing inch, too afraid I’ll fall into the shit soup again.

“I’m Scotty, by the way. Scott Lovelace. But everyone calls me Scotty. Do you have a last name? Do you mind telling me what it is?”

Juliette lets out a long, somber sigh. Great. I’ve annoyed her again already.

“Lefebvre, if you must know,” she murmurs. “Do you always talk so much, Scotty?”

The way she says my name sounds kind of nice. She has a pretty voice, even if it doesn’t match the rest of her. She sounds nice. “Yeah, kinda. Especially when I’m reyt nervous. So, Juliette. Where are we going?” I ask as I creep along the corridor like a crab.

Juliette looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at me, like she’s only just noticed what I’m doing. “Home,” she says.

I stare at her for a few moments, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. Maybe her English isn’t up to snuff. Or maybe she just wants me to shut up. But I don’t want to be stuck in some vampire lass’s sewer hovel. I want to be back on the surface where I belong, but without the crossbow wielding lunatics hunting me.

“No offense, Juliette. But, uh, I don’t think I want to go home with you. I want to go topside and get the hell out of town, you know?” I say as we turn another corner in this sewer maze.There’s no way I’ll remember how to get out of here on my own, so I need her on my good side.

Juliette looks over her shoulder again and rolls her eyes. “Non,” she says. “You come with me.”

I shake my head. “No, I want to go home. Up there.” I point to the ceiling, hoping she’ll get my point. But Juliette just stares hard at me, then trudges forward, ignoring me again. This is getting on my nerves.

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