He’s shot the Billy Idol lookalike five times, and he’s down and bleeding but he’s not dying. “What are you?” Jack growls, gripping the bleached hair.
“Vampire, mate. And you?”
Because Jack’s gone down too, and has got back up again. He grins. “I’m just immortal, mate. Not a monster.”
Blond guy looks interested. “You can’t die?” he asks, head on one side. “Really?”
“Haven’t found anything that’ll stop me coming back yet,” Jack acknowledges cheerfully.
“Vampire bite might do it. Mystical death an’ all.”
The world flips and Jack’s on his back, fangs leering down at him.