My Precious Nightmare

19: A Painting of Sunshine

For the second time, Aster found himself facing down an overly exuberant, lanky brunette with a lack of filter between her brain and the world.

"I found him!" she crowed. "He wasn't home at the time, but I asked just about everyone I could in that apartment building and his description matches this perfectly!"

She stood in front of him as though ready to be awarded a golden medal of honor before the world; all bright brown eyes, broad triumphant smirk, and mussed dark locks curling at the base of her throat. The red setting sun from the nearest window painted her in amber and summer.

Aster found himself momentarily speechless for reasons he couldn't say. His mind had seized.

When he didn't react quick enough for her, the girl hung her head down to shoulder level, as though that would be enough to talk down to him.

"Hey, I said I found your vamp. Can we go kill him and rescue my friend already?"

He managed to shake himself out of...whatever that was. "You're staying here." Like hell he'd have some overgrown Chihuahua running around his ankles while facing a winged, killer monstrosity.

"No I ain't! I'm coming this time. You think I'm going to trust your blood-suck'n ass with my adorable little Lea? Nu uh, hands down no way."

She wasn't being direct. Because her voice, that brazen, naked voice of hers, told him she couldn't handle a night alone in his mansion anymore. She had to go, had to do something, and would keep going until she collapsed.

For some reason, perhaps it was the lighting once more, her stubbornness and vicious will he had come to hate so much suddenly seemed like devotion and passionate loyalty. Which was disgusting of him to even think.

"If you think I'm bad, I can assure you this monster is worse," he heard himself saying. "He's stronger, faster, can fly, and I have reason to suspect he might have some sort of telekinesis. You won't be a help, you'll be a snack."

And, just like with her voice, her face showed everything. Fear. Disgust at herself. Fierce determination.

"You don't let me come, I'll...I'll..."

He closed his eyes and smiled. "What will you do?" He found himself eager to hear. She always said the strangest things.

"I'll fry all the eggs in your house and slip them into your sheets!"

And she didn't disappoint. He threw back his head and laughed, and the sound of it startled him back into reality. He hadn't laughed in...when had he last laughed?

What was going on with him? This wasn't the time for that.

Collecting himself, he turned from her, cursing the stupid setting sunlight and her stupid energy.

"If you want to kill yourself so badly, I'll save more energy just letting you. At least try to make yourself useful by staying out of the way."

Look at him. Employing yet another minor in the art of vampire killing. He might as well call himself Bucky the Vampire Slayer. He even had a rather rad pair of leather pants somewhere in the abyss of his closet. It had been a joke buy from his brother a Halloween back or so. Would shish kabob sticks work for stakes?

"Woot! Let's go kill some people!"

He nearly turned back around to see what he knew to be an over the top pose. But feeling another laugh crawl up his chest, he stopped himself and kept moving until he was far, far away from her.

Sky. That had been her name. Sky Martinez.

...Maybe he was just discovering he had a thing for Hispanic girls. Or was it Latino? Whatever.