(Electric Vampires was published in Tabloid Purposes 3 in July 2006. Enjoy this excerpt.)
“What ya eating?”
Didi opened her mouth to show her father the half-chewed remains of her chocolate bunny.
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
“Didi, don’t do that.” Sarah gave her husband an evil look. Alex shrugged apologetically and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
He nodded in the direction of the restrooms.
“And you’re just going to leave me here with Didi? It was your idea to grab a coffee before church.”
He sat down patiently, counting the seconds until his wife would give in.
“Just hurry up,” she said right on cue.
Alex stood again, and obediently hurried passed the crowd of cappuccino thirsty patrons, down the narrow gallery of Norman Rockwell prints and through the little blue door with the white stick man on it. Alex had seen two men pass this way ten minutes ago and no one leave, and yet the ten-by-ten-foot washroom was empty. He was not surprised.
He went straight to the sink and began to wash his hands. He knew not to look up as that would be the direction of their attack. He knew not to look in the mirror either. There would be no reflection. Instead, he gave his wet hands two deliberate shakes in the sink and pumped the hand dryer. The noise would help to cover the sound of the fight. They would attack now.
Vampires are perfect killing machines, without hesitation, without mercy. Vampire assassins such as the Secula will train for hundreds of years to become even more efficient in the art of death, but even a newly undead, week-old seductress can be a formidable foe, her iron-rich blood making her twice as strong and fast as a professional boxer, and her lust for blood driving her into a blind, homicidal rage.
The assassin attacking was no week-old. He fell from the ceiling like a hawk, his talon-like fingers reaching for Alex’s throat, his fangs barred and thirsty for instant gratification. Alex swiveled out of the way with surprising speed for a human. Before the bewildered vampire knew why he’d missed his prey, his face was being driven hard into the sink. His fangs pierced the cast iron like a can opener and then broke off. The vampire howled briefly before his head was thrust down again, this time causing the cast iron sink to crack like an eggshell and thick, black blood to pool down the drain.
The vampire’s body slumped onto the floor. He was not dead. Alex knew that. There was still more work to be done, but that would have to wait.
Publishers: If you’d like to reprint the complete 6100 word story in your magazine, please email me.