Free Star, Starland Vamp Series, Book 1 by Theresa Oliver

and hairnets preparing for the lunch crowd. I darted quickly down another hallway when I found him. He was definitely a vamp, appearing to be in his early twenties, with a scruffy beard and light brown curly hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed for a week. He wore a tan army jacket and dirty blue jeans, heavily stained, peering through the window of a classroom door.  He was watching something, or someone, when he caught my scent. Immediately, he turned and snarled, running toward me, his hands curled into claws, growling as he ran.
    Still looking like Mr. Hartrell, I grabbed him by the throat, stopping him in his tracks, and lifted him three feet off the ground. As Mr. Hartrell, I was a good foot taller than this creep. Sometimes height had its advantages.
    “Going somewhere, young man?” I asked, sounding like Hartrell.
    The vamp’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. “I … uh … um …”
    “Come with me! You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, pushing him into the nearest men’s restroom. His eyes grew wide when I locked the door.
    “Who the hell are you, man?” the moron asked, holding up his hands, backing toward the only window, frosted, and tightly latched.
    I grinned menacingly. I was going to enjoy this. “A better question is: who are you? Besides being a young vamp?”
    “How did you know that?” the vamp was astonished, and it was clear that whoever had turned him had given him no training whatsoever.
    “Oh, I know a lot of things,” I said menacingly, edging closer. The vamp was now visibly shaking. “For instance, you come from the city.”
    “Man, who are you?” His voice trembled as he stumbled backward.
    “That’s not important,” I calmly replied, stopping just in front of him. “Now,” I began, speaking very slowly. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you will answer them.”
    “The hell I will ! ” Within a flash, he reached for my throat, baring his teeth, lunging toward me. But within a second, I had him pinned against the wall by the throat, his feet dangling a foot off the ground.
    “Oh, yes, you will,” I threatened, my lips curling at the edges, as my green eyes flared. “Tell you what, if you tell me what I want to know,” then I leaned in and whispered for effect, “I’ll let you live.”
    "Yeah right, dumbass,” he spat, baring his teeth, his feet still dangling. Vamps didn’t need air to breathe, so he wasn’t choking.
    laughed, “ I’m the dumbass? Who’s the one pinned to the wall with his feet dangling?” I laughed again. He curled his hands like claws, swinging frantically, trying to make contact. When animals are cornered, they always want to fight. “Now, let’s begin again. Who sent you?”
    “Go to hell !” he yelled still clawing the air.
    “You first,” I snarled, slamming his head against the wall so hard it cracked the beige tile, sending specks of grout and dust to the floor. He cringed, but was otherwise unphased. I laughed. “You got balls, I’ll give you that.”
    “I got more than you,” he growled, struggling futilely.
    I grinned. If he only knew. “Now, I’m only going to ask you one more time,” I said, grabbing his balls through his jeans to emphasize my point. I squeezed until his eyes bulged and he was mumbling incoherently, sweat seeping from his pores. No, not as big as I thought. “Who sent you?”
    As much as I was enjoying this, I had to end it soon, as the bell was about to ring.
    “Who sent you?” I repeated, screaming into his face in a guttural, demonic voice.
    “Uh … uh …,” moron stammered, his voice a few pitches higher. “I don’t know who the guy is, but he said to find the boy and bring him to him.”
    “Where?” I demanded, tightening my grip on his manhood.
    “New York,” he pleaded, his voice an octave higher, almost crying now.
    “I know New York, you moron! The city?”
    He hesitated and I tightened my grip again. Let’s just say he’d be singing soprano