Last Call
The line-up at Barnes and Noble began before their doors opened at 10am.

The protest started two days before.

The strong, the fearful, many counting themselves as devout church-goers, carrying placards and chanting, praying for God’s wrath to reign down and smite the blasphemers. The throng, a gathering of less than 20 at first, soon to grow over a hundred, attempted to chain themselves in front of the bookstore. Tempers flared, accusations and spittle thrown, before police were called. The movement was ordered across the street, to stand behind metal barricades usually reserved for parades.

They would not be deterred. An unholy thing (or the next Anne Rice, take your pick) was due in moments to grace their presence. And all in attendance – the worshipers, the curious and the righteous – would have their moment with the vampire named Deanna.

The redhead was one not to disappoint. Resplendent in a red linen blouse, black capris pants and six-inch obsidian stilettos, the vampire removed herself with grace from the rented limousine, waving and smiling to the crowd. Her long, flowing locks dipped to her lower back as she tossed her head back in laughter at the elder gentleman waving a bible and cursing just 60 feet away.

"Unclean!"

Deanna's head turned slightly. "I'll have you know," she addressed the commentator, "I took an extra long shower before coming here!" Another laugh, a blown kiss, and the redhead skipped inside, careful to avoid being touched by the (mostly) young, (mostly) female, and (unfortunately) goth-dressed crowd.

"Right," she spoke again, addressing the throng as the vampire settled behind a table, 10 pens positioned to her right (as requested). "Who's first?"

By sunset, the autograph queue and stanchions wrapped around the block, though it was nightfall before the author could arrive without fear of charring to a crisp. Even with the hubbub at the main doors, it was possible for browsers to shop in the bookstore. They simply side-stepped the fans and went about their business. Barnes and Noble wasn't about to lose an entire day's revenue. So a single woman in a backpack, who entered around 3pm, wasn't ostentatious. She spent the day drinking caffeinated beverages, buying a book or two, and reading them in a corner. She ignored the crowd.

Were Deanna a cautious sort, she would've put out an all-points bulletin to security, with Rhiannon's face on it. Either she thought the Slayer would approach in the autograph line, or she was so arrogant, she didn't consider herself an endangered target.

It shouldn't have been so easy.

The line surged. Signature after indulgent signature was put to paper. Dozens streamed by. No Slayer.

Throughout the first hour, Rhiannon stayed curled in an armchair. She could hear the crowd talking, see an occasional camera flash reflect off the windows. She also heard Deanna's crystal clear laugh bouncing off the walls. She closed her eyes, breathed, and clutched a Stephen King hardback, of which she hadn't read the first word. At the sixty-two minute mark, she got up, reshelved the book, and took her bag to the bathroom. Instead of books, it held pieces of the tactical gear that Joseph had found for her. She went into a stall and stripped out of her shirt, putting on an undergarment vest, which protected from standard bullets (unless fired at close range), most knives, and blunt trauma. She strapped a piece of kevlar and metal around her neck. Then she put her thermal back on and left the bookbag under the sink.

On her way to the autograph table, Rhiannon's heart pounded as she weaved through the aisles, until she was on the opposite side of a bookshelf. Every breath she took, though quiet, seemed loud enough to give her away. She heard the spine of a book close, and then Deanna's voice, as clear as a bell.

'Who's next?'

She vaulted over the shelf with a Slayer's acrobatic grace and landed just behind the fledgling starlet. "Me. I really insist." She yanked the metal chair out from under Deanna and lifted it overhead. "Should I spell it for you?" Rhiannon brought the chairback down with bludgeoning force at the vampire's throat. If she hit hard enough, it might break the redhead's neck.

There were too many bodies in the bookstore. It masked the Slayer's scent, and the redhead growled at herself for not insisting the table be pushed closer to a wall. Deanna's ego had left her vulnerable to attack and because of that her back thudded against the hardwood floor when the chair was pulled out.

The voice was unmistakable. Leave it to Rhiannon Lee to take advantage. The redhead barely had time to move as the chair slammed down. The metal caught her breastplate instead of her neck, and the force reverberated throughout her entire body. Lights danced behind yellow eyes as she changed her face.

How. Dare. The Bitch. Ruin. This.

The vampire rolled a half-back somersault, and kicked upwards with her stilletos, aiming for Rhiannon's midriff. It hit something hard.

The kick didn’t break any ribs, but it knocked Rhiannon back a few steps. Her shoulders hit the bookshelf, which teetered. Books on the top spilled onto the floor. The crowd erupted in noise and became a mosh pit as some scrambled for the door, only to be pushed inside by others in the queue. Unless you counted demons, Rhiannon didn’t keep a high profile, so it was doubtful anybody would’ve recognized her immediately as the subject of a few chapters.

“Last call, Deanna.” She swung the chair broad-side at the vampire’s face, then dropped it and lunged for a handful of red hair. “One of us is going out!”

The metallic extension of the Slayer's rage clocked Deanna and spun the woman more than 45 degrees. Then came the feeling of fingers grabbing at the roots of her hair. If the bitch wanted a last stand, the vampire was willing to give it to her.

Nails attempted to dig into Rhiannon's throat but metal kept them at bay. Bitch was wearing body armor; the redhead would have to find more vulnerable areas to attack. "Check the title, you cunt," Deanna grunted in reply as her hands instead found covered shoulders and drove the Slayer's head down to her knee. "I'm not going anywhere."

Pain exploded around Rhiannon’s eye. A perfect replica of Deanna’s kneecap could be seen in a semi-circular mark blossoming there. She blinked through water in her eyes and let go of the vampire’s hair. Pieces of auburn sifted from her fingertips and landed on the hardwood. With her fists lifted, she watched the vampire. A flash of a camera. The rising clamor of people squeezing out the door; others, coming in.

“It wouldn’t be the first piece of fiction in your autobiography.” Rhiannon launched a couple of punches at the vampire. Hand to hand, they were an equal match. The Slayer was a better technician. The vampire had an edge in terms of age, wisdom, and a wicked set of fangs. Rhiannon waited for a punch to knock Deanna back on her heels before spinning and kicking high.

The labyrinth of bookshelves could both be a help and obstacle. At this moment it was the latter, as Deanna's nemesis landed a boot to sternum, sending the vampire back into the rack, raining books down over the redhead. Undeterred, the vampire launched herself forward, at the last moment choosing to vault above the brunette and landing with cat-like grace behind her. A succession of kidney blows were thrown.

The throng of onlookers didn't distract her from the goal. They'd come to see a vampire, and now they were witness to what she was capable of. At the very least, word of this night would only increase book sales. "Told you I'd save your end for the sequel," she hissed, now aiming her own kick low towards the knee. "That'll be corroborated by witnesses."

Her back throbbed. If it hadn't been for the body armor, the punches might've done serious damage. Rhiannon managed to jump the kick. "I guess that makes Jennie the goddamn prologue!" Just thinking about the tiny Slayer pumped her full of fury and adrenaline. The next punch was a right cross to put professional boxers to shame; it seemed to explode from Rhiannon's shoulder, and it had Jennie's name written all over it. Wringing her knuckles, she darted behind a shelf, grunted and threw her body weight into it. The massive wood structure tipped in Deanna's direction.

The noise of falling books drowned out shouts from the bookstore manager and an amateur photographer, still in close range.

The noise was enough warning and Deanna managed to put up her hands to hold off the unit from crushing her to the ground. Various books clipped her, ripping both her outfit and causing cuts as they fell. She needed to extract herself from the heavy tower before Rhiannon had a chance to round it with stake in hand. Her jaw throbbed from the thrown punch; if it were aimed lower, the redhead thought it could've pierced her chest and ripped out her unbeating heart.

"Jennie?" Deanna grunted, pushing back enough to give the vampire a chance to jump free. "Wouldn't have had a need to go after the little cupcake if you hadn't tried to take down Victoria! What, you couldn't be happy with taking one of my children, you had to go after her too?"

Just the thought of that gave the vampire strength enough for her next attack. She picked up the overturned table where she'd sat previously, hefted it over her head and fired it like a metallic missile.

Rhiannon ducked and shielded her head. The tabletop slammed into her forearms. It didn't weigh much, but the speed of it knocked her down. She skidded a couple of feet. Being on her back was a huge risk; she needed to create some space. Rhiannon took the first weapon out of her cargo pocket -- a glass globe of holy water Deanna would've recognized -- and threw it grenade-style at her enemy.

She got up and lifted the table like a shield. The metal legs protruded in Deanna's direction. "I didn't want to attack Victoria. I had to. As for Celine, you've got yourself to blame." She charged at and collided with the vampire, panting for breath. Nearby, a set of young, gothic girls screamed.

If they wanted a show, they've got one. She'd managed to turn just enough so that the explosion of glass and sanctified water smashed against her lower back instead of blinding her. A howl of pain erupted from the vampire's throat as scalded, scabbing flesh burned. She refocused in time to see Rhiannon's charge, taking the brunt force of the table. A rib cracked against the concrete wall as she was pinned by the Slayer. Nerve endings on fire from the holy water and damage done by the latest attack. "You had to? How long have you known her? Did you even give Vicky a chance before you tried to suck up her remains with a dust buster? She wasn't going to tell until you went mental on her!"

With a scream rivaling a war cry, the redhead jutted forward and head-butted Rhiannon as hard as she could, hoping to stun her enough to push away.

Not this time.

She gritted her teeth. "Ahh!" Blood trickled out of Rhiannon's nose, but she only let up for a second. She shoved harder against the vampire. They were locked in a battle of strength and wills on the wall. The Slayer's treads squeaked on the polished floor. "Give a vampire a chance? Are you fucking kidding?" It was laughable. Like suggesting she give her enemy a running start, or a free slice with a knife.

The brunette let up with one arm. She curled a knee towards her chest and made a hasty grab for her biggest blade. Rhiannon turned the hilt and held it up to Deanna's throat. If she had to carve her into pieces like a thanksgiving roast, so be it, if it got the job done.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Defiant, even in the face of death. Enough strength behind the cut and Deanna's head could come clean off. "She gave you several. Even looked up to you. Is that how you repay your friends?"

Deanna strained against the table, pushing harder on the Slayer's right side, using leverage to edge the blade away from her throat. "Hey!" she called out to the goth girls cowering nearby. "Fangs for anyone who helps me off this bitch!"

Rhiannon's boots slipped and slid. "Come near me and I'll kill you myself!" she growled over her shoulder. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A line of red appeared on the vampire's throat as the cheap table began to buckle. So close. So goddamn, fucking close. The metal whined and bowed. The women were brought into violent, sudden contact with one another. The table dropped. "Shit!" The knife went off course and shaved a thin layer of skin off Deanna's jaw before striking the concrete wall. As embraces went, it was a far cry from the ones they shared in that strange, alternate universe where they were friends and more. Far from saving one another's asses in the hellverse, too.

Their unexpected embrace would've elicited a giggle from her if Deanna wasn't more concerned with how close the blade had come to prematurely ending her unlife. Not one to overlook opportunity, the vampire shot up her hand to grab the brunette's wrist and squeezed tight enough to break bone. She couldn't tear out the bitch's neck, not until she removed the metallic collar she thoughtfully wore to the knife fight. Disable first, kill second.

Sirens were heard by heightened senses. Someone had called in the melée. That meant people with guns, and probably every reason to use them. The redhead needed to end this sooner rather than later. Deanna kneed her opponent above the groin, hoping to knock the air from her lungs, then pivoted to make a play for the woman's knife.

Those fingers dug into the tiny space between radius and ulna. A normal person's bones would've been reduced to dust. Rhiannon's settled for a fracture, which was painful enough, especially when the tissue began to swell. She cried out and her numb fingers clung to the knife. She didn't let go until kneed in the gut, hard enough to make her feet leave the floor. When the knife dropped, she shuffled her feet and kicked it away. Better to go without her weapon than risk the vampire picking it up.

"Deanna!" Rhiannon grappled with her. "I'm not doing this for five more years!" She hauled back and rammed her elbow into her enemy's face. With only seconds to spare, and a left hand to do it with, Rhiannon pulled a stake from her pocket. Someone in the crowd shouted. If there was any doubt left, they knew they were looking at a Slayer now.

The vampire caught the cry from the audience, then glanced down to see the Slayer's still-working hand cupping the wooden spike. Her right hand covered Rhiannon's, pitting strength against strength. The redhead was scraped and bleeding from the holy water, wounded from the fight. "You think I wanna keep this up?" she grimaced. "I was happy selling my book and looking pretty for the media, and here you come spoiling all that again! Always with the spoilers! Why can't you just leave me alone?!"

"Because you're my responsibility!" Rhiannon grimaced. For the first time in a fight, she found herself near the point of tears. It was frustration rather than pain, mental exhaustion rather than fear. Her eyes were a mess, a mixture of blood and black makeup running underneath, making her look feral like the vampire. "Because nobody's going to do it for me." And because Deanna was the Holy Grail of vampires to her, the one she knew she was born to stake. Her match. What the world would be like if she succeeded, Rhiannon couldn't imagine, but she'd never give up, never retire or take a break until it was done. Especially now.

Her muscles corded as she struggled to raise the stake. Sirens wailed. Colorful flashes illuminated the sidewalk, but the police couldn't get past the crowd.

"Just like Vicky is mine!" Deanna hissed back. "The only reason I came on your goddamned radar was because you're a fucking Slayer and I've kept up with you!" Every ounce of strength was focused to her right arm now, tightly wound to keep the weapon at bay. "That's what really grates, that I'm your bloody equal. You can't stand someone being every bit the hunter you are! The only difference between us is our choice of weapons; you with the wood and me with canines."

"No." Every muscle ached and trembled as she fought to overpower the vampire in the grapple. Rhiannon shook her head and gave her response through grinding teeth. "The difference is, I wanted to beat you fair and square. I didn't take cheap shots. That's the only reason you're still here."

All that time while Rhiannon's pride begged for a fair fight, she lost sight of what mattered. Not winning, but taking care of Deanna so others could live. While she hemmed and hawed and turned her back on guerrilla warfare, people died. Their blood -- and Jennie's -- would be on her hands until she did her job.

"Good thing I'm over that." Rhiannon smashed her knee into the redhead's midsection, trying to shake her loose. What happened next actually worked on both of them. Outside the protestors had mixed with the fans, the fight they could see through the window and the arrival of police stirring them into a chaotic mess. Something crashed into the window. At first it only crackled. Another direct hit was enough to take down the window by Deanna's head.

Just when things were getting interesting...

The kick sent shockwaves of pain throughout Deanna's body, and coupled with the broken rib it forced her to loosen her grip. A potential fatal mistake, corrected thankfully to the distraction of the raining glass. She'd take the cuts if it meant pushing back the Slayer and advancing to the next round of their eternal struggle.

"Welcome to the dark side," the redhead grunted, running toward the opposite wall, planting her feet and leaping into the air, hoping to reach the hanging light fixture. While the vampire's movements could seem random, she always had a plan. The question was: would it work? "How does it feel to disengage your soul from the fight? Freeing?"

Rhiannon held her stake aloft and ducked as Deanna swung from the fluorescent light fixture. It flickered and sparked. "It feels a lot better than running!" She jumped onto a table and scaled a bookshelf from there. On top, she crouched and calculated the distance from herself to the vampire. The fixture would never handle the combination of their weight, which was exactly what she wanted.

Her wrist was bad and she had to wipe blood out of her eye, but she took a flying leap and latched onto Deanna by wrapping an arm around her torso. The fixture groaned and disconnected from the ceiling.

The adversaries came crashing down to the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. Deanna's ankle twisted and snapped. She let out an agonizing howl; in part from the pain and the realization that she was effectively hobbled in the fight. This had to end now. She pushed up her frame using both hands and straddled Rhiannon, her fingers digging underneath the metal protecting the Slayer's neck. She just needed to pry that free, and her teeth would do the rest. "Any last words?" she asked quietly, as the metal twisted.

Air was just a memory. Rhiannon's lungs heaved to get fresh oxygen, but between the landing and the vampire's knees in her diaphragm, she couldn't get more. A lump on the back of her skull made her view of Deanna swim. Warmth oozed out of her thigh. A piece of the fixture had broken loose and was stuck in it.

It was just like an old dream. She was drowning in the lake, a metal rod in her leg turning the water red. Deanna's fangs descended...

"Yeah," she croaked. The vampire was so close she could count the flecks in her eyes. "You're gonna miss me in hell." Rhiannon fingers flexed around the overlooked stake. She had never let it go. She turned the weapon and shoved it deep into Deanna's chest.

Knives. Swords. Axes. Glass. Steel. Bullets. Each weapon over her 200 plus years, wielded by various enemies, was felt as plain as the silk blouse she wore.

The stake hadn't made a sound. Didn't register, physically.

But mentally.

"Fuck." The vampire's face changed to human. "Vicky."

Her final words.

And Deanna was no more. Dust, scattered to the wind. Grains settled on a copy of her book on the floor nearby. The bitch was no longer in the picture.

Rhiannon held tight to the weapon. She didn't move, couldn't breathe as the vampire's pale skin and brilliant red mane gave way to dust. It held the shape of Deanna's features a moment longer than she expected, or maybe she'd never paid attention before. Then it crumbled and she was gone, falling around her like snow.

The Slayer shut her eyes. A feeling of soul-deep satisfaction rolled through her.

A camera flash lit the back of her eyelids. Surrounded by people, Rhiannon picked herself up. Blood dripped down her calf and seeped into her sock. She cradled her broken wrist and looked around.

"Let me by."

With her head down the Slayer left, but not before taking the open book from the hardwood. Deanna's ashes were pressed between the pages.