Dru is swaying on the car seat next to you, her head lolled back, showing off that stretch of her white throat. “Do you hear the stars, Spike?” she ask, and her face turns to you slow, like the moon pulling around the sun. Not into science, or any of that, but she turns, and you feel ol’ Todger twitching in your pants. Dru’s fingers flutter and she’s entranced by ‘em, but smiling at you. “Do you?”
“I hear lotsa things,” you tell her, “but you’re the only one the stars talk to, baby.”
“They’re saying,” and Dru rolls up, her knees on the bench seat, facing you totally, “there are things to hunt and chase.” She makes a growling sound, like a little fluffy poodle or something, but you know how hard she bites. Todger does, too. Fingers bent like claws, Dru snatches at the air.
“What kinds of things?” you ask her, curious now because you’ve been traveling on this road for a long time, and parts of you are getting hungry.
“Oh,” Dru sighs, tilting her head back as if she could see right through the metal roof of your car, “beautiful things.” Her voice takes on a different tone. “Young things.” That wicked smile charms as she walks two of her fingers across the dashboard. “Pretty things.”
Well, you’re up for all of that, you’re sure, and you lean over and kiss her, giving her a little bit of fang. “Where do we go?”
Dru points at a road up ahead and you can just make out an old wooden sign that needs to be repainted. Government land, but it doesn’t matter; there’s no gate up over the drive. You pull onto it, and make your way up the road, the gravel pinging off the undercarriage of your car. It’s not too bumpy, and Dru coos when she spots a deer standing at the side of the road. You like it when she’s happy, you like it when she’s mad. It’s when she’s miserable that you can’t stand it. Then you fawn over her with gifts and pleasures, hoping she doesn’t bring up Darla or Angelus. Be damned if you’re going to hunt either of those two wankers down, even for your girl.
Dru laughs softly, clapping her hands together, and points. It breaks you out of your thoughts about what you’d like to do to Angelus the next time you saw him. You catch sight of it, too, a flicker of flame.
Dru wants you to stop here. You don’t argue, pulling the car off the road and into some brush. Ever gallant, you leave the car first, and offer Dru your hand to bring her out behind you. She looks like a ghost in her pale white dress, the hem swirling around her ankles. It’s not the best wear for hiking in the woods, especially not with her pointy toe boots, but if need be, you could carry her.
Smiling up at you, Dru makes a shushing motion with her free hand and squeezes yours with her other. You let her lead the way. You’re downwind from the fire, and as the breeze picks up, you catch other scents too – ripe, young girls and testosterone; booze spilling easy; sweat and funk and that acrid stink of cannabis. You inhale deeply, letting those smells play inside your body. In front of you, Dru giggles charmingly, like a little girl. Marijuana doesn’t do much to your type, not like it does to your prey, but alcohol, now there was something you could sink your teeth in to. You smirk at your own pun but by now, Dru’s stopped, peering through the branches ahead at the fire.
There are five of them, three boys and two girls. One of the girls is pretty enough, but the other, oh, she’s a looker. The biggest of the boys is flirting with her, offering her a drink, and probably going to offer her a lot more than that. You’re surprised they aren’t playing loud music, but that’s their loss. From the dimpling smile on Dru’s face, you think she has a plan.
She’s quiet this time, even though you doubt your little herd of prey could hear the two of you over their own noise. Walking her fingers exaggeratedly in the air, Dru makes an arc toward the other side of the fire. Throwing back her head, she mimes a howl, then her face turns bumpy, and you can’t help but grin. Her wickedness makes ol’ Todger want to rear up out of your trou, but you’ll forgo him for the minute.
Giving Dru a kiss, you sneak around the underbrush, getting into position. The scrawniest boy, wearing glasses, arms over his chest, he looks around like he wants to be anywhere else, at least until he glances over at the looker. You wonder if he writes her poetry that he’s too afraid to recite. Licking your lips, you watch as the biggest boy puts his hammy hand on the looker’s breast. She slaps him, hard, making him take a step backward for a second. Rage flashes over his face and he reaches for her again, and then you hear Dru, howling like a werewolf, over on the opposite side of the fire.
Everyone freezes, looking around, and you hear one of them, the middle boy, ask, “What was that?”
The biggest boy says, “Someone’s dog,” and tries to laugh, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he looks around.
“It’s a wolf,” the looker says, “we should go now.”
Scrawny boy says, “There are fewer reported attacks on humans by North American wolves than there are attacks by dogs.” He shoves up his glasses.
“Yeah? That doesn’t mean I want to be attacked!” the looker shouts. “Rob, I want to go home.”
“What? I’ll protect you,” the biggest boy said, showing off a lot of teeth.
“All the better to eat you with,” you singsong under your breath, your head rocking from side to side, a metronome to the cadence.
“We should go,” second girl says. “Rob,” she insists when he looked ready to protest.
Your turn, tilting back your head and howling like a werewolf, too.
“Shit, what is that?” Middle boy turns in place.
Scrawny boy bites his lip and reaches for a burning piece of wood. Ah, ah, that could be bad, you think, and as if Dru read your mind, she suddenly crashes out of the underbrush, eyes wide and staring, looking over her shoulder as if in a blind panic. “Oh, help!” she cries, stumbling, “it’s coming!”
The kids are stunned, then second girl runs to Dru, taking her in her arms. “Are you all right?” she asks as Dru leans against her, boneless. “Hello? What is it?”
“Evil,” Dru whispers, pointing a shaking finger. She sobs convincingly, burying her face in second girl’s shoulder. Only you can see the glint of yellow in her eyes.
“Evil?” Middle boy glances around. “What do you mean, ‘evil’?”
“Don’t you mean dogs?” biggest boy asks with a chuckling laugh that doesn’t do enough to hide his shaking hands.
“Rob, let’s just go,” looker whines again, shooting your Dru a funny look. Maybe because she’s clutching second girl around the waist and the back of the head. Dru knows though, she’s angled the second girl, so just you can witness a rivulet of blood starting to stain her t-shirt.
Bloody hell, it’s time to get the party on. You howl again as you leap out of the underbrush. You catch hold of the biggest boy, showing him your true face just before you break his neck, letting him collapse to the ground, his boot in the fire.
Scrawny boy wets himself and starts stumbling backward. Dru lets go of the second girl and, convulsing, second girl falls down, head falling back, her throat bloodied. Looker screams, long and clear, and middle boy does what scrawny boy had started to do – pulls a burning stick from the fire. You applaud his daring, stalking closer to him. Dru’s standing behind him, a beautiful smile on her face.
“What are you?” middle boy asks as the firelight illuminates your face. Looker and scrawny boy don’t wait for the answer, running off through the woods.
You cock your head to the side, as if thinking over how to answer him. “Your worst nightmare sounds so trite, doesn’t it? But the classics are classics for a reason.”
Dru wraps her arms around middle boy from behind, making him start. He tries to swing around with his stick, but she moves with him, an anchor to drag him down to his own personal hell. Dru’s singing to the middle boy and his eyes are going soft. He drops the stick, and Dru stops singing. “Spike,” she says, letting the boy go. He tries to fight, but he’s just an appetizer, and you both drain him dry, sharing his neck between your kisses.
When you’re done, the front of Dru’s dress is soaked in crimson and Todger’s so hard, it almost hurts. It’s a good pain, though. Dru caresses the front of your trousers, digging her fingernails in to make you groan. “Dru,” you pant, “there’re two more.”
“Yes, Spike.” She smiles, the coquette, and spins away from you. You run after her as she darts into the forest, following the broken branches and fear scent your prey left behind. And when you catch up to them, well, there’s one for each of you, and blood left over.