High Noon at Hot Topic (2 page)

“You change nothing, Gregoire. I made those
two. I can make more.” He turned slightly, and I found myself
suddenly skewered by a pair of piercing dark eyes. So much for
trying to remain inconspicuous. “That one, for example. Not quite
up to my standards, but at least she already has the wardrobe.”

Not up to his standards? Okay, so I wasn’t
quite as bonelessly thin and supernaturally polished as his
previous companions, but that didn’t quite qualify me for
bag-over-my-head status.

“I wouldn’t try it.” Gregoire flickered a
quick glance in my direction, and I saw his mouth harden. “At any
rate, you’d have to get past me first.”

“You say that as if it would cause me some
difficulty.”

The blade descended, and Gregoire lifted the
stake he carried to block the blow. Whatever wood that thing was
made of, it had to be unbelievably strong. Almost at the same
moment, he swept it around in a vicious arc, connecting with the
vampire’s ribs in a resounding crack. Not point-first,
unfortunately, but it had to have hurt like hell.

The Trio’s leader did wince but then
delivered a kick worthy of a judo master. It caught the stake at
exactly the wrong angle, and it flew out of Gregoire’s hands.

Only to land a foot away from me.

I didn’t stop to think. There wasn’t time. I
lunged for the stake, felt the smooth wood under my searching
fingertips. I wrapped my hands around it and jumped to my feet.

Gregoire didn’t seem to have missed a beat.
Deprived of his weapon, he grasped one of the clothing racks,
wrenched it loose from the wall, and hurled it at the vampire’s
head. Black spandex and gleaming PVC rained down everywhere. I
heard a curse but didn’t stop to figure out whether it had come
from Gregoire or his opponent. The vampire was distracted. I had
only one chance.

I had to thrust the stake upward, since he
was taller than I. Somehow I’d thought his undead flesh would offer
more resistance, but the sharpened piece of wood drove smoothly
through his chest. It sort of reminded me of the time I’d gone to
Girl Scout camp and had to help pound tent stakes into
rain-softened earth.

At least this time I was ready for the shower
of dust that followed. I closed my eyes and felt bits of dissolved
vampire settle on my bare arms and my eyelashes.

A hand descended on my shoulder, and I
started, then blinked. Gregoire stood in front of me, staring down
into my face with a sort of bemused wonder.

“You killed him,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” I replied. “Wasn’t that what
you were trying to do?”

“Of course. But he was — ” He hesitated, then
said, “I’ve been hunting him for a very long time. He was a master.
For a master to be killed by a complete amateur is unheard of.”

“That so?” I brushed vampire dust off my arms
and shot Gregoire an arch look. “Guess he shouldn’t have made that
remark about me not being up to his standards, then.”

“Hell hath no fury.”

“Damn straight.”

To my surprise, he grinned at me. “What on
earth are you doing working retail?”

“Glut of humanities majors.” Maybe I was
flattering myself, but I thought I caught an admiring glint in his
eyes. “Are you saying vampire hunting pays better?”

The grin remained in place. “Somewhat.”

I stared down at the mess of vampire
explosions all over the floor and wondered whether even the store’s
industrial-strength vacuum cleaner would be up to the task of
getting it all out of the carpet. Something struck me, though, as I
stared down at the abandoned clothing the undead Trio had once
worn, scattered amongst the new pieces that had come falling down
when Gregoire pulled the clothes rack out of the wall. Corporate
would have a fit if we had to declare all that a loss.

“It’s noon,” I said. “I thought vampires
couldn’t go out in daylight.”

In answer, Gregoire bent down and retrieved
one of the redhead’s patent leather platform boots. He tapped a
finger against the chunky rubber sole. “Hollow. They fill these
with their native earth. The sun still hurts their eyes, and they
will burn if they stay out in it too long, but this helps them to
blend in.”

“I wouldn’t say they blended that well. Kind
of stuck out in a crowd, if you ask me.”

“Somewhat. But this subculture suits them
well. It’s recognizable, and, as I said, the footwear suits their
purposes.”

As I was pondering that remark, Martine
staggered over to us. She stared down at the mess of dust and
discarded clothing on the floor and pointed at it. “He — they —
what — ”

Martine wasn’t coherent at the best of times,
but this was bad even for her. Gregoire didn’t appear particularly
perturbed by her babbling, however. He passed a hand over her face
and murmured, “Forget.”

The false eyelashes fluttered again, and then
she stood up a little straighter. In almost normal tones she
announced, “I’m going to get the vacuum,” and disappeared back into
the stockroom.

“Neat trick,” I commented.

“It does come in handy.”

Those blue-gray eyes suddenly seemed a little
too piercing. I glanced away, then said, “I probably should help
her — ”

“I would rather you helped me, Kara.”

Nonplused, I just stood there, not sure
exactly what he meant.

The smile returned. “You appear to have some
natural talent. Or would you rather stay here and fold
T-shirts?”

After all, he
had
told me that vampire
hunting paid better than retail. When he put it that way…

I didn’t even hesitate. “Let me go get my
purse,” I said.