Free Boys That Bite by Mari Mancusi

by a single torch. Magnus pulls it open and grabs the torch. We enter a tiny room, about the size of an elevator, with no furniture. The vampire locates a keypad panel and presses in a code. The door clangs shut. Letting out a sigh of relief, Magnus affixes his torch to a bracket on the wall and slumps down to the floor. I join him. "Are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at me. He's still breathing heavily. "Yeah, I'm fine," I say, for some reason a bit touched by his concern. After all, he just watched his three-thousand-year-old boss go up in a pile of dust. Probably pretty darn traumatic for the guy. And still, he's worried about how I'm doing. "That was far too close," he says, still breathing in ragged puffs. "I can't believe she got Lucifent." "No kidding," I say. I look around the room. It appears to be made completely of some kind of slick, shiny metal. "What is this place?" "It's a safe room," Magnus explains. "There are a few feet of solid titanium separating us from the rest of the compound. She'll never get in here. We just have to wait it out. She'll leave eventually. After all, she's got school in the morning." "So let me get this straight," I say, pulling my knees to my chest and trying to still my heart. "That chick was a vampire slayer?" "Indeed," Magnus says, "Every generation there is born a girl destined to slay all the vampires, rid the world of evil, yada, yada, yada." He shakes his head. "Which is absolutely ridiculous. We're not evil. We don't even kill humans anymore. We keep to ourselves, donate millions to charity, the works." Interesting. "But the slayers don't buy this, I take it?" "Please," he snorts. "A few years back, we launched this whole PR campaign. Vamps Are People Too, we called it. We sent the parent company, Slayer Inc., press releases, Quick-Time movies highlighting some of the more philanthropic among our ranks, everything. But did that convince them? No. They refused to listen. Insisted it was their destiny, whatever the bloody hell that means. It doesn't matter to Slayer Inc. that some of the greatest artists and musicians of our time are vampires. That they are killing off valuable members of society who would never hurt a fly." "Ooh, musicians? Like who? Marilyn Manson? The guy from Nine Inch Nails? Green Day?" Ooh, I hope Billie Joe is a vamp. Then maybe I'll get to meet him. Maybe he even lives right here in the coven. You know, with riches and rock stars, I gotta admit there may be SOME good things about being a vampire. "Their identities are secret," Magnus, the spoilsport, explains. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." "Technically aren't I already dead?" I ask with a smile, remembering our previous conversation. "Once again, you fail to grasp the concept of 'figure of speech.'" "Yeah, yeah. So who are the musicians?" He groans. "You're like a pit bull with a bone, aren't you?" I grin proudly. "Well, you've seen Behind the Music on VH1, right? Rockumentaries on gifted musicians who are always dying young in the second half hour?" "'When we come back, the tragedy that shook their world,'" I quote with a giggle. "Um, right." Magnus says, rolling his eyes. "Well, do you honestly think every one of these stars just had really bad luck in the tragic accident department?" Hmm. I never really thought about it that way before. I'd always attributed the multitude of rocker deaths to the live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse, James Dean theory of life. But could it be that they were already rocking out as good-looking corpses, only to be killed a second time by a destiny-deluded Slayer with no appreciation for rock-'n'-roll? You know, if I get out of this, I should write a tell-all book about the vampire world. Maybe I could get on Oprah. Or at the least The Daily Show... "Do you remember that program that used to be on TV?" Magnus continues. "The one about the Slayer? That sympathizer Joss Whedon wrote the character to be so noble and good. Always saving the