Brad and Lane and Open - Stools
“Oh, well I’ll try to be messier next time,” Rhiannon said, smiling at him. “A couple of weeks ago, I left a wreck out in Jean, you know, that little gas station town off 15? Four vampires in their nest, a very exsanguinated human corpse in the corner, and a creature that looked like H.R. Giger’s wet dream in the backyard. Actually, it’s probably still out there. I’m sure it’s absolutely ripe. I should call that in for you...” The hunter patted her hip pocket as though going for her cell phone.
She looked over at Brad. Seeing the two of them side by side, she was more convinced than ever that he was an etheric, too. “I promise I don’t bite,” she said, repeating a phrase he said to her when they met. “You meant that as a joke. It was hard for me to take it that way. Vampires, the asshole kind, they say that riiiight before they go for your throat, only they add the word ‘hard’ at the end. Usually it’s the ones who watched too many B-movies before they were turned.”