The Tome of Bill Compendium Vol. 1 (Books 1-4) (5 page)

She led me through the crowd and we wound up next to the group who’d been singled out. I couldn't help but take note that all the guys that I was now standing with appeared to be of the decisively non-male-model variety I had noticed before. Odd. I was actually starting to wonder if this was about to turn into the hazing scene from
Revenge of The Nerds
when Jeff began slowly pacing in front of us.

“Very nice. Any that you fancy before we get started, Ozymandias?” he asked toward the direction of the main group.

A bored voice with a vaguely Bostonian accent replied from near the back of the crowd, “Not particularly. Carry on with your silliness. Don't worry about me.” I couldn't help but notice a brief look of annoyance cross Jeff's face at the answer he was given. I tried to scan the crowd for the source, but that was when Jeff's overly smug-looking face stopped in front of me and continued. “So be it. As host, it is mine to offer our hospitality, but as guest, it is yours to refuse (
ooh, wonder how many brain cells this ox had to burn off to come up with that
). Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Excellent choices, my daughters. But before we can judge the cattle...”

I interrupted, “Did you just call me...*urk*” Make that
tried
to interrupt. His hand shot out, lightning quick, and grabbed me by the throat with a grip that felt overly strong even for a guy with his build.

“Cattle do
NOT
speak!” he spat at me. “They are just judged...after we feast.” He flashed a predatory smile. If you're guessing that his eyes turned black as coal, and his canines elongated in front of me, well, you're wrong. Don't be such a pretentious know-it-all.

Just messing with you. That's exactly what happened. It's kind of comforting to know that being a corpse hasn't affected my sense of humor. Unfortunately, it's the,
hah-hah, if I don't laugh, then I'll start screaming
, type of comedy. But hey, never let it be said I didn't crack wise in the face of a creature that shouldn't exist, right before it lowered its head to tear into my throat.

And that brings us back to where we were. I guess that also explained why I was slowly starting to regain my senses, as opposed to standing in front of the pearly gates with St. Peter reading back to me a list of all the times I masturbated. Unless I was seriously hallucinating, I've seen enough movies to know that I was most likely going to wake up with a serious overbite and a hankering for a hunk of blood. Oh, well, as long as I wasn't also all sparkly, because that would just be fucking weird.

I have to admit, now that the wooziness was starting to clear, I didn't feel half bad. Had I not remembered what had occurred, I’d have never guessed my neck had been chewed out recently. Hell, forget that, I was actually starting to feel pretty goddamn excellent.

I could likewise feel myself coming to. My eyes were just on the verge of fluttering open when the screaming started. Loud screaming -
too
loud, as if someone were yelling into a megaphone cranked to eleven.

I raised my hands (
hey, they worked again
) to my ears, when suddenly the scream became a choked gurgle. Almost immediately afterward, there came a *WHOOOSH* noise, followed by a brief wall of heat washing over me.

As I opened my eyes and tried to stammer, “What the fuck?” (
which came out a bit slurred, thanks to my new canines...guess that solves the mystery of what I cut my tongue on earlier
), I felt powerful hands grab hold and haul me to my feet. That did it. I was finally fully awake. Blinking so as to clear my vision, I took a quick inventory of my surroundings and realized that I had been backed up against one of the walls. Sally was standing next to me, holding my arm in a grip that belied the fact that she was a fraction of my size. Another muscled douche was on my other side, doing the same. It was then that Jeff's voice caught my attention from off to the left.

“Not bad, Starlight, but you lose two points for the screaming. That was just fucking annoying.” With that comment, several other voices, presumably vampires as well, chuckled and expressed their agreement. I craned my head to see what was going on. What I beheld did not exactly lighten my mood.

I was in a lineup of sorts. Most (
most!
) of the guys that had been singled out with me were likewise being held in place. They were all covered with blood (
I hadn't quite built up the courage to look down at myself, yet
) and appeared to be in different stages of waking from what I assumed was the same dying-like experience I just did. Jeff was standing at the far end of the line. He was addressing a dark-skinned brunette (
Brown sugar...how come you taste so good?
) who was giving him a pouty look in return.

Oh, yeah, there were two other quick things I couldn’t help but notice: Jeff was holding what looked like a sawed off, sharpened baseball bat, and, secondly, there was a smoking pile of ash next to the babe. I don't think one need have the entire series of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
on blu-ray (
it was a gift
) to figure out what had just happened.

“No fucking way!” whined the brunette. “That's not fair, Night Razor (
Night Razor!?
). How was I supposed to know he was going to completely freak?”

“What was that, Starlight?” Jeff, or Night Razor, or maybe Douche Razor, asked in a clear warning tone.

“Nothing...my lord,” the girl, Starlight, I presume, meekly replied.

That seemed to satisfy Jeffy-boy as he moved to the next person in line. His presence seemed to snap the accountant look-alike out of his funk.

“What are you?” he mewled. “Please. I won't tell anybody. Just let me go.” Jeff just smirked at this and started to raise the makeshift stake. “I have money!”

“Hold him.”

The poor dude lost it. He started screaming, “OH GOD! PLEASE! ONE OF YOU, PLEASE HELP ME!” Jeff's arms were extended, and the stake was pointed straight at the accountant's stringy chest. “PLEASE! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!”

Jeff quietly answered, “Then you shouldn't be at a party like this,” and brought the stake straight down into his helpless victim's ribcage. The accountant made a strangled noise, but it was cut short. There was a flash, and his body self-immolated from the inside out. Holy shit! It's one thing to see it happen in a low budget movie, but to see it in real life...well, it's a little hard to grasp. I mean, people just don't normally do that.

I was still gawking when Jeff started speaking to the accountant's redheaded companion. “Pretty good. Two points off for the whining, but I'll give you one back for the wife and kid thing. That one always makes me smile.” By the time he finished the sentence, all that was left of her “date” was a pair of eyeglasses sitting atop another pile of ash. Once again he moved down the line.

By now, every one of my recently deceased companions had regained their senses and were all doing some combination of begging or crying, except for one portly fellow who seemed to be in denial, and was chanting over and over, “Not happening. Not happening.”

I was last in line and, seeing how much good begging did the last guy, I decided to use my last few minutes to try and figure a way out of this death trap, or un-death trap, as it were.

I scanned the room, trying to take in any useful details. The rest of the partygoers were off to the side, giving Jeff their full attention and cheering him on. Wait, not all of them. In the far back, I saw one fellow leaning against the wall. He had sandy blond hair and was of slimmer build than Jeff, although he still looked like he could have walked straight out of an LL Bean catalog. He was busy picking his nails and otherwise looking bored. Sensing me staring, he looked up and we locked eyes. He grinned and gave me a shrug before going back to the far more important business of making sure he didn't have any dirt under his pretty little fingernails. Asshole! Okay, no help there, and a quick whoosh of heat told me Jeff was getting closer.

This was not good. I was trapped, alone, dead, and, judging by the idiotic ratings that were being giving out, the unlucky guest of a supernatural
pig party
. What a fucking weekend, and it was still only half over. Okay okay, I needed to stop feeling sorry for my somewhat both odd and terrifying predicament, and get my head back into the game...the game of saving my own ass.

It was time for me to pay attention again. There were windows in the place, but a quick look confirmed that they all appeared to be painted black. No one was going to be watching. The music was pretty loud. Besides which, if the original screamer didn't attract outside attention, I doubt I would do much better. And besides, who was I kidding? In the middle of the city on a Saturday night, would anyone even think twice if they heard a loud yell? In short, none of it looked good, and my two captors were still holding me in an iron grip with their unearthly, undead strength.

Wait a second...unearthly, undead strength?

Sometimes I am such a fucking idiot. These dipshits were super strong vampires.
I
was now a vampire, too. Thus, as a newly minted deadly predator of the fucking night, shouldn't I have access to the same powers? Thank you very much, circular logic.

I gave my muscles a quick flex to test that theory, and sure enough, they definitely felt stronger. Okay, that probably doesn't mean much. Kind of like how someone who just started working out will swear they can see results. Tom went through that phase a couple of years back. He had been dating this chick who was into fitness. For an entire month (
oddly enough, the full length of the relationship
) she managed to drag him to the gym with her, and for that same month, the rest of us had to put up with him flexing his non-existent (
to everyone but him
) muscles, like he had just stepped out of
Pumping Iron
. But still, delusions or not, I felt stronger,
much
stronger, and, bullshit or not, it was all I had to go on at the moment.

I waited until Jeff was staking the guy next to me. Sorry dude, but if only one of us was going to get out of here in something other than a dustpan, I'd prefer it be me. He ashed the poor guy, and then turned to the cheering crowd to give his judgment. At that moment, I stomped down
hard
on Sally's foot. Okay, so it wasn't the manliest thing in the world to do, but considering the circumstances, I figured the other side threw the rules of fair fighting out the window a long time ago.

She squealed in pain and loosened her grip enough for me to wrench my arm free. Before anyone could react, I balled my free hand into a fist and sent it crashing into the head of the asshole holding my other arm. To both of our surprise, it actually worked, and he went flying back with a grunt. Holy crap, I was a genuine badass.

Unfortunately, that was probably the wrong time to mentally pat myself on the back. The whole scenario played out in just a few seconds, but by the time I turned to run, Jeff had already stepped over to block me.

“Cute,” he smirked, looking to either side of me, “but playtime is over.”

Fortunately, I didn't agree. Before he could advance on me, I crouched down and launched myself effortlessly over his head.

At least that's how it played out in my mind.

In actuality, my legs were up to the task, sharing the same unholy strength as my arms now did, but there was one teeny little problem. In my rush to escape (
and look cool doing so
) I kind of didn't bother to notice that the ceiling wasn't exactly high enough for that sort of move. So, what actually happened is I launched myself vertically about two feet, until my head crunched into plaster, and then came down to land in a heap at Jeff's feet, along with a good chunk of ceiling. Spider-Man, I was not.

I looked up to find the crowd staring at me incredulously. Perhaps they were all in awe. Probably not, but hey, we all have our own personal delusions. Anyway, for a moment, all was silent, but then a loud chuckle erupted from the back of the room, snapping me out of my daze. Figuring it had worked well a few moments ago, I launched my fist at Jeff as I rose. I was strong and fast. I could do it.

Or not. He was stronger
and
faster as it turns out.

He caught my fist with his hand. Whatever grip Sally and the other vampire had on me earlier were an absolute joke compared to him. It was like sticking my hand in a fucking vise. He started to squeeze and I could feel my bones begin to bend. Putting on a maniacal grin, he continued to increase the pressure until I was forced to my knees.

“I told you (
squeeze
) you're nothing but cattle (
squeeze
). Cattle (
squeeze
) doesn't (
squeeze
) fight back (
squeeze
). Cattle (
squeeze
) just go (
squeeze
) quietly (
squeeze
) to (
squeeze
) the (
squeeze
) SLAUGHTER!” (
squeeze...*crack*...ow!
) He sneered down at me as he continued his rant. “You have the nerve to think you're now our equal, but you are not one of - UGH!”

Just for the record, should you ever find yourself in a similar scenario, the middle of a monologue is the perfect time to send your free fist smashing into the bad guy's crotch. Simultaneously, Jeff released my hand and doubled over in pain as another loud laugh, from the same voice as earlier, rang out from the far end of the room. Oh, yeah, I was comedy gold.