TWENTY-FOUR
Sam turned to Bobby and Marta. "There! In the field! Vampires. They attacked me outside Johennie's shop. And now they've got Johennie."
The two hunters followed Sam's pointing finger, seeing the reflective eyes in the darkness.
"Vampires?" Marta asked. "I didn't know there were any nests left around here."
"This is special," Sam said. "They knew my name. They'd come specifically for me. They might not be locals."
Bobby coughed into his sleeve. "They probably set this fire to drive us out." He glared in their direction. "Divide and conquer."
"Those bastards," Marta hissed. "They burned me out of my restaurant. Didn't they? Didn't they?" She turned to Bobby. "What do you have in your van?"
"Two machetes. A chainsaw."
Marta set her jaw. "That's a good start."
Bobby opened up the back and they armed themselves, hacking and coughing. Then they marched toward the field.
As they walked, Bobby gripped one of the machetes, his knuckles white. Marta swung the other one, getting used to the weight. Sam opted for the chainsaw. If it weren't for them pausing to hack up a lung every few feet, they'd look pretty formidable.
Sam could still feel the heat from the blaze, even in the vacant lot. He counted six pairs of eyes.
"Winchester," sneered Leather Jacket when Sam drew closer. His face was a mess. The buckshot had tattered the flesh. "You ran like a squealing little pig back there."
"Now you have to fight three of us instead of ambushing me."
The five other vampires clustered around in a semi-circle. Sam recognized Cowboy Boots and a couple ofothers who had pounded on the van's windows. One of them sported a black Mohawk. Another struck Sam as out of place, a professor type in an honest-to-goodness tweed suit with elbow patches. One circled them in a rockabilly red and black bowling shirt with a skull vomiting fire. The last was a gaunt and pale female, her dark eyes glittering beneath a mane of tangled, ebony hair.
Mohawk held Johennie's shotgun, trained in Sam's direction.
Leather Jacket sneered, moving the blade tighter against Johennie's neck. The spice shop owner's face remained expressionless. He stared up at the sky, unmoving.
"We're willing to make a trade," said Leather Jacket, apparently the leader of the nest. "The old man for Winchester and Singer."
Johennie shifted, moving for the first time. "That's hardly a fair trade. I'm worth ten of them."
That made Bobby smile.
"No trade?" the vampire growled.
"What am I? Chopped liver?" Marta said.
"Listen. We don't want to fight," the lead vampire said. "We just want to kill you."
Sam looped his fingers through the pull for the chainsaw.
"Oh, hell," Leather Jacket added. "Who are we kidding? Of course we want to fight!"
He had no sooner finished his sentence than Johennie spun suddenly, forcing the vampire's knife hand down and stabbing the blade into its belly. In a flash, Johennie threw him to the ground, then lashed out and grabbed the barrel of his sawed-off. He slammed his fist down on the end, causing the stock to careen upward and smash Mohawk's mouth. His hands went slack and Johennie took back the shotgun.
Sam revved up the chainsaw, feeling the powerful thrum of it. The female and Rockabilly scattered at the sound of it, but the other four held their ground.
