Horrible
The world isn't a very nice place.

            Sebastian awoke to blackness.

            But that wasn’t anything new, so it didn’t bother him.  After all, if one couldn’t stand the inky darkness within a coffin, then one wasn’t fit to be a vampire.  No, the lack of light was like a dear friend, which wrapped around him like a beloved funeral shroud every morning, protecting him from the acidic daylight.  He loved the darkness within the velvet confines of his coffin, so when he woke up each evening and saw nothing but black, he smiled.

            But tonight was different.

            Even though the familiar blackness was before his eyes, unfamiliar sounds reached his ears as he lay perfectly still on the soft velvet, his hands folded across his chest in the repose suitable for a proper vampire.  As he absorbed the sounds that had awakened him in the first place, the harder it became for him to lie in his usual position of rest.

            Odd shuffling could be heard outside his sanctuary, and he heard voices, muffled by the rich oak and expensive velvet that separated him from the outside world.  What was being said was unclear to him, but he thought he detected four distinct voices, and he frowned as his mind rapidly shook off the thickness of sleep; who in the world would be in his crypt?  Hidden beneath an abandoned school on the edge of Los Angeles, his hand-built crypt was a safe haven from the world of mortals, and was a place he kept secret from everyone, even his fellow vampires.  There was no way that anybody should have been within his crypt!

            Angered at this violation of his sanctity, he nearly burst out of his coffin, intent on ripping the intruders limb from limb, but he stopped himself at the last moment, forcing his bunched muscles to relax.  A thought had occurred to him, and an unpleasant one at that.  He’d been wakened by the sound of activity outside of his coffin, and not by his internal time-sense, which meant that it wasn’t time to wake up yet, meaning that there was a good chance that it was still daylight.  The thought sent a chill through his blood, and his hands moved away from where they were positioned to push the coffin lid off and returned to their original position on his chest.  Beneath them, his heartbeat increased.

            There was more shuffling, and then he jolted as a harsh voice close to the lid hissed, “Wakey wakey, you point-toothed fuck!  Wanna come out and play?”

            “We’d really like it if you did!” growled one of the other intruders, an edge of vicious mirth in the voice.  Then in a whisper that would’ve been inaudible to any mortal within the coffin but very clear to one with vampiric hearing, the voice asked, “Do they really burst into flames like in the movies?”

            “All depends on the spook in question, kid,” came the whispered response, which was in a voice different from the first two.  “Sometimes they go up like a torch, sometimes they just turn to ash, and sometimes they flop around and do a bit of both.”

            “Either way, it’s pretty cool,” said a fourth voice, not even attempting to muffle itself.  “Come on out!” barked the voice, which was male, like its three compatriots.  “Want some nice fresh blood?  There’s plenty of us out here, ready for the taking!  Why don’t you come out and have some?  We’re not helpless women and children, but hey, a little challenge will do you good!”

            He frowned at these unkind voices, wanting to argue with them about how he never preyed upon women and children, but on evildoers and utterly worthless specimens of humanity, but he kept his red lips tightly clamped shut, not wanting to antagonize them any further.  The vampire jumped again when several sharp raps sounded against his coffin lid.  “Trick or treat, asshole!” bellowed the first voice.  “How about we give you a good running start before we start shooting?  That’s more than you soulless bastards gave my daughter, that’s for damned sure!”

            Despite himself, he shuddered.  Mortals out for vengeance always spelled trouble, especially when they were feeling righteous: the Crusades had proved that much.

            More rapping on the lid, and then the first voice spoke again.  “Don’t have much to say, do you?  That’s because you know I’m right, you piece of shit!”

            Sebastian reached up, slipped his arms through the security loops, and grabbed hold of the two handles fitted into the underside of the lid, which were very common modifications in vampire-used coffins, as it was far harder for troublemakers to get a coffin lid open if the vampire inside had a way of holding onto it.  He pulled back on the handles, using the powerful muscles in his arms to keep the lid in place, just in case his unwelcome guests got industrious.

            “Fucking undead punk!” growled the first voice, very close to the lid, as though pressing his nose against it.  “You and your kind think you own this city, don’t you?  Think you can do whatever you want, eh?  There’s only 300-something of you, and there’s almost four million of us, asshole.  What are you going to do if we not only discover we’ve got bloodsuckers running around our city, but also decide we don’t want you around anymore?  You’re going to fucking die, that’s what!”

            Sebastian flinched as a furious, uneven pounding sounded on the lid, and the entire coffin started to rock around on its stone pedestal, and he realized that someone was actually on top of his coffin and hammering away on it.  This was getting worse by the minute.

            “Come out, come out, you undead shit!  Come and get all the tasty blood out here!  You’re so strong and superior, aren’t you?!  You smug fucker!  You heartless son of a bitch!  I know you’re in there, and I want you to come out right now!”  The coffin began to shake violently, and the pounding doubled in force.  Some of the other voices started to protest, telling the man to calm down, and the coffin very nearly fell off the pedestal as a struggle began overhead.

            “Settle down and stop being stupid!” snapped the third voice.  “Whether we’ve got the advantage or not, these creatures still aren’t to be taken lightly, so don’t make a mistake that’ll get us all killed!”

            The fourth voice chimed in.  “Yeah, there’ll be plenty of time for playing with him once we get him back to base.  Hell, the trip there ought to be plenty entertaining.”

            Base?  Sebastian pondered that for a moment as the conflict overhead cooled down, and whenever he remembered what some of the city’s other vampires had told him a few nights ago, his blood nearly froze solid in his veins.  Hunters.

*     *     *

            “Stacey!  You must hear my latest composition!” Sebastian exclaimed as he passed through the crowd inside Andy McCoy’s House of Ecstasy, acoustic guitar in hand.  The people paid him no mind as he weaved through them, as they were too busy hooting, hollering, and throwing their fists in the air for the Peppermint Creeps, a local band that dressed up like a colorful Japanese version of Kiss and played loud, brash punky glam rock.  They weren’t anything close to Sebastian’s cup of blood, as he preferred darker, more introspective music, and the Creeps’ “Fuck Off And Die” definitely didn’t qualify.  But Sebastian had to tolerate it, as many of the city’s eldest vampires tended to gravitate towards that sort of music, and if he wanted to find them when they were out and about, he had to go to places like the House of Ecstasy.

            Stacey, a slim, black-haired vampire, was sitting in one of the corner booths with Dorian, a blond-haired bassist that was extremely popular among the city’s females, and the former sank down into the seat as Sebastian approached, while the latter crowed with laughter.  He was never quite sure what to make of Stacey’s friends, or even Stacey himself at times, but he found the odd vampire to be extremely intriguing, so Sebastian tended to ignore much of the weirdness that often surrounded him.  Fortunately, Stacey’s ridiculously strong, not to mention hostile, girlfriend wasn’t anywhere to be found, so he didn’t have to worry about her picking him up by his head this time.  But it appeared to be just Stacey and Dorian, so he didn’t slow his pace as he approached the booth.

            As he drew near, he heard Dorian say, “Well, it was your idea, so don’t bitch.”

            “I’m the idea man, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should have to suffer!” groaned Stacey.  “They didn’t strap Al Einstein to Little Boy when they fricasseed Hiro-fucking-shima, did they?  Fuck no!”

            “Don’t be a pussy!  It’s not like you’ve got to do much, you’ve just gotta be there with us.  We’re probably gonna do most of the work anyway, and you can just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

            “I’m not so sure I like the idea of even that.  I’ve done some pretty nutty shit, but this could get me shredded if I’m not careful, especially when you heartless bastards are taken into consideration.  You’re all about seeing me get torn up.”

            “That’s not true.”

            “Yes it is!  You’re all a bunch of monsters!”

            “And you’re not?”

            “Not in the least.”

            “You laughed whenever you and Donita knocked me out of that hotel window, four stories high.”

            “I didn’t laugh that hard, so shaddup.  I actually felt bad about it.”

            “Like hell.”

            “Hey, I felt plenty bad that the pool you landed in had water in it, because I bet you would’ve made a really rad prettyboy-shaped crater.”

            “Asshole.  But anyway, you wanna pussy out?”

            “Hell no!  I’m not a pussy!  I’m just gonna bitch a lot!”

            Hefting his black acoustic guitar, Sebastian stepped up to the table and raised a dark eyebrow.  “Might I ask what you’re discussing?”

            Dorian looked at him blankly for a moment, and then started to say something, but Stacey cut him off.  “The guys wanna paint me up like a football and shoot me through a set of goalposts with a cannon, okay?” snarled the short vampire.  “Now fuck off!”

            Sebastian laughed softly.  Stacey was always saying things like that, but he was sure the other vampire didn’t mean them.  He was a very coarse sort, but Sebastian saw brilliance in his bright, darting eyes, and he was certain that if he gave it enough time, he could forge a very productive and rewarding friendship with Stacey.  He was sure that Stacey needed a friend like him, who valued his intellect and unique viewpoint on life, as opposed to teasing and tormenting him like his cohorts always did.  Granted, Stacey did a great deal of agitating himself, but that was likely a reaction to the shabby treatment he got from his compatriots more than anything else.  So Sebastian tried his best to be the friend that Stacey should have had.

            “I’ve written a new composition, Stacey,” said Sebastian.  “You simply must hear it.  I think you’ll rather enjoy it.”

            “Is it about motorcycles, pussy, or guns?”

            Sebastian, who was clad as though he were going to attend a low-key Victorian-era event, shook his head.  “I’m afraid not.  It’s an acoustic piece that—“

            “Acoustic?” hissed Stacey.  “No way, dude.  That’s way too mid-90’s, and I’m in denial of that whole ‘unplugged’ bit.  If I wanted to listen to something acoustic, I’d go check out Emmit Snell & His Jugband From Hell.”

            “Oh come on.  Give him a chance, at least,” said Dorian, tipping his red leather cowboy hat at a passing lady while grinning across the table at his irritated friend.

            “No.”  The slim vampire’s tone was similar to that of a petulant three-year old.

            “It might surprise you,” said Sebastian, strumming a few notes with his long, carefully manicured nails.

            “You love the blues, and a lot of that’s acoustic, so what’s the difference?” asked Dorian.

            Stacey glared at Dorian.  “There’s a big difference between a downtrodden dude from the Mississippi Delta singing about heartbreak and a goth poser who got bitten by a vampire dog singing about the futility of existence.”  He fixed his eyes on Sebastian and raised an eyebrow.  “That’s what it’s about, isn’t it?  The futility of existence?”

            A bit flustered, Sebastian nodded, and then self-consciously adjusted the lace of one of his cuffs.  “Actually, yes.  It’s a favorite theme of mine.”

            “See?  What’d I tell you?” Stacey barked at his friend, who rolled his eyes and then tipped his hat at another lady.

            Sebastian strummed a few more notes, and then asked, “Have you ever thought about it?”

            “No, I can’t say I’ve ever thought about having a sex-change operation.  Or are we talking about something else?”

            “The futility of all this,” said the guitar-toting vampire, gesturing towards the interior of the House of Ecstasy and everyone assembled.  “No matter how long we live or what we aspire to, it ultimately means nothing.  In the end, we all end up as nothing more than dust and bones, regardless of what we’ve accomplished in our lifetimes.  We still die.”  He began to play his instrumental, slowly picking the notes.  Though the delicate sounds would have been lost to mortal ears in the cacophony inside the House of Ecstasy, vampire ears could easily pick them up, and his own ears tingled with the notes such was his passion for the song.

            Stacey looked less than impressed, then grunted, “I dunno about you, but the tits on the brunette over there are enough to tell me that existence is far from futile.”

            “What?  Where?” asked Dorian, immediately sitting up straight and turning his head this way and that.  “I was too busy checking out the twin redheads over by the bar.  Oh wait, I see.  Yeah, nothing futile about those at all, I have to give you that.”

            “Pretty cool, huh?”

            “Fuckin’ A.”

Dorian and Stacey leered at the woman while Sebastian played more loudly and forcefully, trying to make them pay attention to his sorrowful tune, and give them the gift of understanding that he himself had known for so long.  They both sat quietly in their seats, their eyes on the scantily-dressed brunette leaning against a table not far from where they were sitting, and though they weren’t looking at him, Sebastian got the feeling that their ears were starting to absorb his elegant composition, and that some part of them was beginning to comprehend the meaning of it.  His heart swelled, and he played with even more passion, leaning into the music, wanting to open both their eyes (Stacey’s especially) to the beautiful curse of life, and the pair sat so still that he was certain he’d managed to enrapture them with his music, despite the surroundings.  This is what he’d been waiting for!

Then Dorian broke the spell.  “I have got to go home with her.”

“I don’t blame you, dude.  The ass is at least the equal of the tits.  Four stars all the way.”

Sebastian jangled a few notes, and then grimaced.  Damn him!  After all of this time, he’d finally started to reach Stacey and get the slim vampire to listen to his music, and that blasted sex-fiend had ruined it!  He just knew that Stacey had been getting involved in the music, because he was usually the one that interrupted everything, but this time he’d been content to be quiet until Dorian had opened his mouth.  He glared angrily at the offensive vampire, who didn’t even seem to notice.

He started to throw a cutting remark at Dorian, but the blond vampire, who started to get up from the booth, cut him off.  “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, don’t wait up for me.”

“Feh, like I would, anyway.”

Dorian began to gracefully exit the booth, but stopped when he was halfway to his feet, as a familiar voice called out, “Not so fast, Prince Charming.  We’ve got some business to discuss.  Important business.”

Still holding his guitar, he turned and saw two other vampires approaching.  The one who’d spoken was known as Steele; he was a lean, dark-haired vampire with intense eyes and was one of the most respected immortals in the city.  When he spoke, most other vampires listened.  Accompanying him was Tommy, a dark-blond vampire that taught classes on the paranormal at Miskatonic University and had a reputation as one of the nastier, most acid-tongued immortals around town.  They both cut through the crowd with an ease that Sebastian envied, and neither one of them looked to be in a very pleasant mood.

He sighed: Steele, Stacey, Dorian, and Tommy were thick as thieves, and drawing Stacey’s attention was going to be impossible now that the rest of his cronies had arrived.  So he figured he’d do what he always did whenever Stacey got absorbed by the group or his girlfriend: disappear gracefully and hope things went better next time.  But as he started to turn, Tommy grabbed his arm.  “You too, Lestat.  This concerns everybody with fangs,” the professor curtly informed him.

Intrigued, Sebastian forgot his disappointment and waited for everybody to get seated, and he carefully sat down in the vinyl booth next to Steele, who eyed him with mild distaste.  He would have preferred to sit next to Stacey, but the slim vampire had positioned himself at the back of the horseshoe-shaped booth, as though he were a Mafia don, and if Sebastian wanted to sit next to him, he would’ve had to push past Tommy or both Dorian and Steele, which didn’t seem like a very good idea.  Still, it was a bit exciting to be sitting in with these four, as they were among the most notorious vampires in the city, and could even be seen as celebrities, especially Steele, who some of the younger vampires looked upon as a sort of roguish royalty.  Holding onto his guitar, Sebastian quietly sat and listened to what was said.

Steele looked over the other four vampires sitting at the table, regarding each for a few seconds, and then said, “We’ve got hunters in the city.”

There was a collective hiss from the others, Sebastian included.  In a vampire community, a vampire hunter was regarded with the same utter contempt that a Ku Klux Klansman would receive in a black neighborhood.

“So what are we doing about it?” growled Stacey, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a much more vicious one.  “And where’s Wade?  Shouldn’t he know about this?”

“That’s where we heard it from,” answered Tommy in his clipped teacher’s voice.  “One of them ran afoul of him earlier this evening.”

“I take it there wasn’t much left for questioning?” asked Dorian, concern on his boyish features.

Steele grinned darkly.  “The little bastard shot Wade with an incendiary stake, and then a holy water one.  Not enough to hurt Wade, but it annoyed him pretty good.  There wasn’t enough of the hunter left to put in a shoebox.”  The others nodded; the big vampire wasn’t one to be taken lightly.  “Wade said he’d been hearing whispers of hunters being in the city for the last few days, and this was all the confirmation he needed.  The hunter also happened to be wearing an insignia from the Morning Star Slashers.”

“Aw shit,” groaned Dorian.

“Fuck!” Stacey barked as he banged his head against the table.

Sebastian said nothing, but his stomach sank just the same.  The Morning Star Slashers was one of the most dangerous groups of vampire hunters in the world, even worse than the Holy Order of Nightslayers, and they were the type that fully believed in the adage of “we had to burn the village down to save it.”  Battles between vampires and the Slashers had been sporadic and extremely violent over the past century, and some had gone so far that several small towns had been devastated before all was said and done.  So far no large conflicts had erupted between the Slashers and vampires in any major cities, and the thought of one exploding in Los Angeles was an unsettling one.

Dorian asked, “How many are we looking at?”

Tommy shrugged.  “Uncertain.  For all we know, the one that Wade obliterated was the only one, but somehow both Steele and I doubt that.”

“They always travel in groups,” said Steele, lighting a cigarette.  “Much easier to wreak havoc that way.”

“The average-sized Morning Star Slasher unit is a baker’s dozen,” said Tommy, “And it’s practically unheard of for Slashers to operate alone, even though it appears that this one went after Wade on his own.  Then again, the Slashers aren’t exactly known for compassion amongst their members; the stupid bastard that attacked Wade might have been abandoned by his comrades, or otherwise sent out alone as a way to determine what kind of vampires occupy L.A.”

“I’ve heard of them doing that before,” said Dorian.  “They’ll use members they don’t like as bait for vampires in unknown territories, and just sit back and watch the vampires tear their pal apart so they can see what they’re up against.”

“Heh, if they got a good load of Wade and saw what he can do, maybe they’ll just head on home and call it a night,” sneered Stacey.

“Or make a strategic retreat and return with greater numbers and firepower,” said Tommy darkly, and the thought hung heavily in the air around the table.

“But the fact of the matter is that we don’t know what we’re up against,” said Steele.  “We don’t know if this incident was isolated, or if it’s just the beginning of something really bad.  Wade’s checking around town right now, seeing what he can find out, and we’re going to get some of the half-bloods on it come morning.  But at the moment, until we know something more definitive, we’re going to keep this quiet within the vampire population at large, because the air’s still tense regarding an invasion following the whole Crimson Order fracas last spring, and I don’t want to start up a panic or any witch hunts when this might be nothing.”

“One scenario that Wade proposed was that the attack on him was actually carried out by another hunter group, like the Nightslayers, just to start up further bad blood between vampires and the Slashers.  The Slashers are so bad even other hunter groups don’t like them, and I’ve heard tales of clashes between the Slashers and other groups,” said Tommy.  “Though I doubt the hunter that attacked Wade expected such a horrifically violent response.”

“Yeah, an incendiary stake can do some serious damage to any regular vampire,” said Stacey, “But they just piss Wade off.  That’s one bad motherfucker.”

“Agreed, though I wish he would’ve held off on shredding the little troublemaker until after either he or one of us had a chance to question him,” Tommy grunted.  “We could’ve eliminated a great deal of uncertainty in this situation.”

Steele blew out a few smoke rings.  “Don’t let it bother you.  He realizes that, so he’s not going to rest until he finds out what’s going on.  Wade’s a man that takes this kind of thing very seriously.”

“So . . . what do we do in the meantime?” asked Sebastian after a long pause.

The formidable vampire turned his gaze to Sebastian, who tried not to wilt under the intensity of his eyes.  Where two thousand years wore some vampires down to pale shadows of themselves, Steele seemed to thrive on his advanced age, and had the ferocity of an army of youthful immortals.  “We watch, we wait, and if necessary, we kill the problem.”

He leaned over until he was scant inches from Sebastian, so close that the goth-clad vampire could smell the aroma of motorcycle exhaust and night air on him.  “I don’t want this turning into a clusterfuck because some people open their mouths and start up a panic.  We went through enough of that shit with the Crimson Order, and as many young, hotheaded vampires as we’ve got in town now, it wouldn’t be too hard to get a riot going over nothing.  So keep your eyes open and keep your mouth shut.  You dig?”  Steele’s eyes were narrowed, and as he spoke to the other vampire, his ivory fangs slowly slid out in a mute threat, which Sebastian received loud and clear.

He nodded curtly.  “I understand perfectly.  If I see or hear anything potentially dangerous, I’ll inform you as soon as possible.”

Steele gave him a hard clap on his shoulder, which Sebastian figured was supposed to be comradely.  “Good boy.”  Then after a few moments, he said, “Now get out of here.  You bother me.”

“Before I go, would you like to hear my latest composition on the futility of existence?” asked Sebastian, a bit insistently, as he didn’t want to simply leave on command as though he were a dog.

Stacey and Dorian twittered like schoolgirls at the request, while Tommy simply rolled his eyes.  Steele laughed once, short and mean, and kept his eyes on Sebastian.  “I don’t like repeating myself,” he said, very, very softly.  Stacey guffawed like a donkey at the back of the booth.

Sebastian took that as his cue to leave.  He’d just have to educate them at a later time, though he didn’t have any particular fondness for any of them save Stacey, as they were too full of themselves.  But that kind tended to be that way, which was all the more reason to enlighten Stacey to the reality of life.  That would just have to wait until a later day, but that wasn’t a problem, seeing as how he had all the time in the world . . .

*     *     *

            His coffin bounced and shook as the hunters carried it along to who knew where, and it seemed as though all the time in the world was now measured in hours, possibly minutes, instead of centuries.  Still tightly clenching the handles on the lid, he was glad for the security loops, which served to anchor him in the coffin, because after unsuccessfully trying to pry the lid off once they’d gotten him out of his crypt, the hunters had actually tipped the wooden box over in an attempt to just spill him out.  But no matter how much they shook the coffin, he was held securely in place by the thick nylon loops, which enabled him to keep an unbreakable grip on the lid.  They’d kicked and jabbed at the coffin for a short time, screaming horrific things at him about how they’d already killed several vampires today and how they were going to get several more once they were done with him.

He’d held tight, however, and apparently none of them had a drill or anything of the sort, because after knocking the coffin around for a while, they gave up and started hauling it around again.  Trying to get him out of his coffin didn’t make much sense, as they’d earlier said that they were going to take him back to base for whatever reason, and he doubted that a pile of vampiric ashes would be of much use to them.  Of course, this group didn’t seem like the most stable bunch in the world, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised by their odd behavior.  They were like a bunch of mortal teenagers, not really caring if they accomplished what they set out to do, just so long as they were entertained in the process.  However, the one that had been screaming at him earlier, had a vicious hatred of vampires, much stronger than the others, and that worried him.  That kind made the most dangerous and effective vampire hunters, especially if they were a bit unhinged, because they couldn’t be dazzled or frightened by anything a vampire did, and simply saw immortals as just another enemy to annihilate.  Death was also the only thing that would sway them from their path of destruction, and though they were merely mortal, they were disturbingly hard to kill.  These thoughts did nothing to comfort him.

            They’d been carrying him for nearly an hour now, and he had no idea where he was at, as they’d taken so many sharp turns and had gone up and down so many sets of steps that he’d completely lost his sense of direction.  At times, he knew they were going down alleys from the echoes he could hear, and he occasionally caught the sound of distant voices, likely mortals going about their business in the background, unaware of him and the peril he was in.  His captors kept knocking on the lid and telling him that it was a beautiful day, and that he needed to come out and enjoy it before it was over, but he refused to dignify their taunts with a response.  He maintained the silence he’d been keeping since this whole ordeal had began, and he wished he knew how long he had until sundown.  His time sense kept telling him that it was the middle of the night, but he didn’t dare risk it, not under these circumstances.  That, and who knows what kind of weaponry the hunters were packing.  If one of them had gone after Wade with incendiary and holy water stakes, he didn’t want to think about what other sorts of nastiness this lot had, especially if they were, in fact, Slashers.

            “We’ve been watching you assholes for a long time, you know,” said the voice that had been screaming at him before, though the fellow didn’t sound nearly as enraged as before.  “For a lot longer than any of you suspect.  Bunch of stupid fuckers, you think this city belongs to you.  It doesn’t.  It belongs to proper human beings, not bloodsucking monsters that pretend they’re people.  We’ve been preparing for this for a long time, and we’re going to do what the Crimson Order couldn’t: we’re running you right out of the city.”

            Sebastian’s blood ran cold.  To hear anything regarding the notorious Crimson Order from a mortal was disconcerting enough, but the fact that these hunters knew about the Order meant that they really had been doing their homework on the city’s vampires, more so than Steele and the others had realized.  A sudden desperation surged through his veins, and he fought the urge to throw the lid from the coffin and take his best shot at fleeing from these mortal monsters, so that he could get back to the others and warn them of the impending trouble.

But how could he get away from them if it was in the daytime?  If he were a half-vampire and immune to the sun’s rays, he wouldn’t have to think twice, but that simply wasn’t the case with him, as sunlight hurt him quite badly.  If they were hurrying through the city’s alleyways and back streets, he’d have a decent chance of making it into the shadows before the sun got to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d be safe from the hunters, because even if he found a dark place, there was still a good possibility that it’d be a dead-end, an island of shadow in a sea of sunlight.  Finding a truly secure haven from the sun in Los Angeles in the daytime was nearly impossible unless you knew exactly where you were, and he had no idea where he was.  He wouldn’t be any good to anybody if he was burnt to ash in an ill-considered attempt at escape from these hunters, so he decided to stay put until he saw a better chance or didn’t have a choice in the matter.

He was very much of the mind that in the final analysis, vampires were an abomination and were little more than monsters mimicking their former human selves, so if all the world’s vampires were to suddenly drop dead, including himself, he wouldn’t be very upset over it.  Beyond Stacey and a few others, he didn’t care much for the vampire population of the city, but he didn’t want to see the whole community wiped out.  He abhorred senseless slaughter of any kind, and he knew if the vampires and the Slashers went to war, hundreds, if not thousands, would die in the struggle, many of them innocent mortals that had nothing to do with the conflict.  To have their wonderful mortality brought to a premature end because of a vicious clash between vampires and vampire hunters was something he didn’t even want to think about.  The mortals were the chosen few, the ones that would burn brightly for a brief while and then disappear with a flash, while his kind smoldered darkly for ages, long outstaying their welcome; the delicate mortals didn’t deserve to die because of the existence of the damned in their city.  He had to do something about the problem outside of his coffin, if not for the vampires of the city, but the dear, beautiful mortals that lived within it.

“Don’t have much to say, you soul-sucking fuck?” growled his perpetual antagonist.  “Yeah, we know all about the Crimson Order and what went on last spring.  We know a great deal about you bastards.  Why do you think we went after that big guy first?  What was his name?”

“Wade,” offered one of the other voices.

“Yeah, Wade.  We’re starting off on either end of the spectrum, beginning with the strongest and the weakest, and working towards the middle.  While we’ve been dealing with pussies like you all day long, our fire teams have been out scragging your big guns.  We underestimated Wade the first time, but we didn’t today.  Your big buddy finally went down somewhere in Malibu, from what I heard, and that redheaded bitch with the fine ass, Fire Team Xerxes blasted her to dust not too far from the Chinese Theatre,” sneered the hunter, once again rapping on the coffin lid while Sebastian’s heart nearly stopped in disbelief.  “Still got a few hours until nightfall, too.  I figure we ought to have most, if not all, of the heavy hitters wiped out by tonight.”

“You’re lying,” Sebastian rasped.  Mortals beat both Wade and Brandi on the same day?  How was that even possible?  There was enough raw power between the two of them to decimate a mighty army, and the thought of a group of mortal vampire hunters being able to bring them down horrified him.  Stacey must be devastated by the loss of his girlfriend, and—Stacey!  Had they gotten him, too?  He nearly asked, but didn’t dare do anything to bring attention to Stacey, just in case.  “You’re lying,” he growled.  “You’re just trying to frighten me.”

Even through the thick coffin lid, the slyness in the hunter’s voice was clear.  “Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”

The vampire said nothing in response, and instead closed his eyes and clenched the handles as hard as he dared, trying to force down the scream rising in his chest.  He very nearly did scream when the coffin hit the ground with a heavy thud, roughly shaking him, and he was unable to hold back the hiss of fear and anger that burst forth.  The sound was greeted with chuckles and cackles from outside his dark cocoon, and one of the other voices said, “I think we’re starting to get to him.”

“We haven’t even started.  We’ll really get to him whenever we get him on the table and see what makes him tick,” said yet another voice.  “Fire and acid work well enough, but if we could cultivate some bacteria that only eats vampire flesh, or maybe makes vampire blood burn in the veins . . . now that would be something.”

“Building better anti-vampire weapons to help build a better tomorrow,” said the fourth voice, sounding like a television announcer.

Another knock on the lid.  “You ready to head home with us?  When we’re back at base, you’ll get to hear the reports from the fire teams as they wipe out all your soulless pals.  That’ll sure be fun, won’t it?”

“You’ll never win,” snarled Sebastian, unable to help himself.

“If it makes you happy to think that, you go right on thinking it, leech.  Now, get the next phase moving, quickly!” barked the first hunter, and Sebastian jumped again as chains rattled and clanked across the lid of his coffin.  “Hurry up, you pukes!”

Panic finally got the better of the vampire, and he lunged forward against the lid, needing to be out of the suddenly oppressive coffin.  But it was too late.

Before he’d even raised the lid a half-inch, it slammed back down into place, with the sound of more chains dragging across it following immediately afterwards.  “Oh, now you want out!  You already had your chance!” snarled the first hunter, mirth in his voice.  “Maybe you should’ve taken the opportunity to get out when you had the chance!  Now you’re gonna find out just how we deal with your kind!”  There was a heavy thump on the coffin lid, followed by a few more chain clanks, and the hunter shouted, “All right, you filthy animals!  Let’s roll!”

The next thing Sebastian heard was several sets of rapid footfalls across pavement, and then car doors slamming.  An engine roared to life, revved a few times, and there was a loud squeal of tires peeling out; a second later, the coffin jerked forward, the sound of it scraping across the pavement horrendously loud within, and a soft whimper escaped from Sebastian as his little sanctuary sped down the road.

Why were they doing this?!  Probably nothing more than the sheer bloody-mindedness of the Slashers, thinking that they were justified in their actions merely because he was a vampire and they were mortal . . . didn’t they realize how pointless and hateful this was?  Actually, they probably did, and that was why they were doing it.  And they dared condemn him because he drank the blood of the evildoer?!

He pushed against the lid, trying to escape, both too enraged and terrified to care whether it was sunny out or not, but he couldn’t budge it.  They’d secured it far too tightly with the chains, and now he was trapped within the one place in the world that he’d thought would always be his safe haven.  “Release me!” he roared, ineffectively banging a fist against the lid.

“Not a chance!” shouted his antagonist above the hideous scraping of the coffin’s reinforced wood on the pavement.  The voice didn’t come from the vehicle ahead of the coffin, but from directly overhead, and with a hiss of rage, Sebastian realized that the hunter was actually riding on top of the coffin.  How dare that self-righteous, murderous bastard!  The chains overhead clanked, and the hunter shouted, “Yah mule, yah mule, yah!”

“Release me!” screamed Sebastian pounding on the lid, the panic he’d kept tightly balled up within him starting to break free and run rampant through him.

There was a bone-jarring thump that bounced the coffin in the air for a couple of seconds, during which the hunter howled in glee, and then an even harder jolt when they came back down.  Sebastian’s head banged against the lid as the coffin returned to the pavement, momentarily scrambling his brains, and he started to shriek in fear, clawing against the lid like an animal, his nails tearing the fine velvet to ribbons.  His rationality shrank as his panic grew, and he wanted nothing more than to be out of his coffin.

“Hey!  Whoa whoa whoa!” screamed the hunter, “Watch the corner, fuckwit!”

A few seconds later, the squeal of tires was heard once again, and Sebastian was slammed against the coffin wall as the hunters made a sharp turn.  Both he and the hunter screamed as the centrifugal force nearly caused the coffin to roll, and when the course straightened out again, the hunter bellowed, “What are you tryin’ to do, fuckin’ kill me?!”

He was answered with an increase in the engine roar, a squeal of the tires, and another vicious jolt as the vehicle’s speed was suddenly boosted.  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!  Get that bitch movin’!”

The vampire started to roll over, so that he could get up on his hands and knees and try to push up against the lid with his back, which would probably work a great deal better than just pushing with his hands.  But the coffin began to swerve back and forth, bouncing him around like a ball in a rapid-fire tennis match, and it was all he could do to try to brace himself into position to avoid the worst of the battering.

A loud squawk came from overhead, and the hunter shouted, “Quit throwin’ shit, you fairy-boy bastard!  Hey!  Are you deaf, asshole?!”  Sebastian thought he heard a splatting sound above the grinding of the coffin’s wood, and then the hunter shrieked, “Fucker!  You’ll pay for that!”  Laughter drifted back from the vehicle up ahead, as the other three hunters were apparently unafraid of paying for anything.

The next few minutes were the most nerve-wracking of his life, and at that point in time, he would have been grateful to simply drop dead of a heart attack; the coffin jerked to the right and left, the sound of car horns blasting all around, and the sadistic hunter kept whooping and hollering in delight.  The vampire struggled and thrashed and fought for freedom from the cacophonic coffin, but it was all for naught, as they had the lid clamped down far too securely.  Then it got worse.

Even over the racket of the coffin scraping, the vehicle’s engine, and the hollering of the hunter, Sebastian heard the wail of sirens in the distance.  He shut his eyes.  Oh no.

“Cheezit, the cops!  Go!  Go!  Yah mule!” barked the hunter, and the chains rattled rapidly with his words.  As the hunters fled the law, it seemed as though the coffin spent more time in the air than on the ground, and his antagonist sounded as though he was having the time of his life, which just made it that much worse.

Though it took less than five minutes to escape the police, it felt like five nightmarish centuries to Sebastian as the coffin swerved, bounced, and jolted like a barrel traveling river rapids.  He screamed like a caged animal the whole time, nearly out of his mind with fright, and he came close to passing out several times as he was almost bashed to pieces from the violent ride.  Just when he thought he was going to go insane, there was yet another squeal of tires, and the coffin jerked to the side harder than ever, causing the hunter on top to screech in dismay as the rectangular box began to roll.

It hopped, skipped, and jumped across the unforgiving pavement, Sebastian panicking so badly that he was unable to take any pleasure in the sounds of the hunter screaming, apparently now in a predicament of his own.

The coffin finally came to a stop with a thunderous crash, colliding with something big and metallic, which was solid enough to break the abused coffin into splinters.  A scant few seconds after the coffin had come to rest, the hunter came bouncing along after it, and smashed into the remains with a final squawk of pain.  “Oooo shit . . .” muttered the hunter.  “That was worse than the time at Space Mountain . . .”

Though battered, beaten, and mentally frayed, Sebastian scrambled out of the wreckage of his once-comfortable coffin towards the sound of that hated voice, not even noticing that there wasn’t a single ray of sunshine anywhere as he emerged into the cool air.  “You monster!  I’ll make you suffer for this indignity!” he shrieked, blindly grabbing at his foe, so disoriented from the tumble that he couldn’t get his eyes to focus.  The hunter squealed and struggled with him until Sebastian found the bastard’s throat and wrapped his hands around it, intent on strangling the hunter to death while he watched the light fade from his eyes.

The hunter grabbed Sebastian’s wrists with a grip far stronger than the vampire expected, and actually managed to pull them away, foiling the vampire’s attempt at strangulation.  What manner of mortal was this?  No mortal had the strength to resist a vampire!  That was what made them so fragile and so beautiful!

Then as Sebastian’s eyes finally straightened themselves out, he discovered exactly what kind of mortal could break his grip, and it wasn’t a mortal at all.  Instead of finding himself face-to-face with a sneering vampire hunter, he found himself looking directly at Stacey’s grinning face.  “Yo, chill out, dude!  It’s just me!”

“Stacey?!  But what—?” sputtered the vampire, jerking his hands away from Stacey’s grasp and leaping to his feet amidst the rubble of his coffin.  The slim vampire, clad in torn and dirty clothes, wiped at a big, bleeding scrape on his forearm and hopped to his feet, with just a bit of wobble in his legs.

“Damn, gonna have road-rash for the rest of the night, probably,” grunted Stacey, looking annoyed, but then he shrugged.  “Oh well, it was worth it!” he exclaimed, and then pointed at Sebastian gleefully as he started to hop up and down.  “We got you good, dude!  We so had you going!  You thought I was some crazy vampire-hunter, didn’t you?”

Sebastian stared at Stacey uncomprehendingly.  “What?”

“You shoulda heard yourself, dude!  Holy shit, that was awesome!”  As Stacey bounced around in the empty parking lot where the coffin had smashed to bits against a now-disfigured dumpster, a blood-red muscle car came roaring in from the street and skidded to a stop directly in front of them.  Sebastian was so keyed up from the coffin ride that he cowered in fright, afraid that the car was going to hit him, which got both Stacey and the occupants of the car laughing hysterically.

Uncovering his eyes, Sebastian saw Steele and Dorian grinning at him from behind the Chevelle’s windshield, and Tommy popped out from the rear of the passenger side window, looking at the wreckage through the glass eye of a video camera.  “Don’t they make an adorable couple, folks?” he asked.  “Smile for the camera!”

“Screw you, Tom!” Stacey snapped, pointing at the professor.  “Did you get everything?”

“He doubts my unparalleled ability with the video camera, folks!  Can you believe the nerve?” mocked Tommy, who then said, “Of course I did.  I nearly lost my head to lightposts a few times, thanks to Steele, but I was able to document every second of your little adventure.  I’m sure this document will make for some fascinating viewing.”

“Sweet!” crowed Stacey, punching a fist in the air in delight.  Then he pointed a finger at Steele accusingly.  “You tryin’ to kill me or something, dude?  You didn’t have to whip us into the lot that hard!  You could’ve done it without rolling the coffin!”

Steele casually leaned out the window of the Chevelle and smirked   “That wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

“Yeah!” added Dorian, giving Stacey the finger.  “I saw you bounce on your head like four or five times!  You looked just like Daffy Duck!”

Stacey returned the gesture while rubbing at his head through his terribly mussed-up hair.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.  That duck’s a genius, and totally willing to mangle himself for the sake of a gag, just like yours truly!”

“Gag?” echoed Sebastian, feeling ill from the ordeal.  He stared at Stacey.  “Gag?”

“Hell yeah!” exclaimed the short vampire, clapping Sebastian on the back and giving him the thumbs-up.  “You need to loosen up, dude, so we thought we’d fuck with you a bit, y’know, give you a good scare, and help you chill out.”

“But . . . but . . . but—“ stammered Sebastian, not quite able to wrap his addled mind around the situation.  Had that really been Stacey yelling at him the whole time?!  “What about the Slashers?”

“There are none, dude, at least not in L.A.!  It’s cool, we just made all that shit up to make you buggy,” Stacey explained, as though it was no big deal.  “That’s why we didn’t want you talking to anybody about it, because if you mentioned it to anybody not in on the joke, that could’ve screwed everything up.”

“A joke,” echoed Sebastian.

“You gotta lighten up, dude.  All that dreary shit ain’t good for a vampire,” said Stacey earnestly.  “That, and you’re also annoying as hell, so we figured not only did you need to be goofed on, but it might do you some good.”

Sebastian continued to stare blankly, at a complete loss for words.  Then Stacey started to laugh like a hyena.  “You should’ve heard yourself!  You were screaming like a little baby in there!  You thought you were gonna die, didn’t you?” he put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and gave him a shake, nearly toppling over he was laughing so hard.  “Didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes, I did,” quavered Sebastian, not sure what else to say.

“So doesn’t it feel great to be alive?!” exclaimed Stacey, his eyes bright, grabbing the other vampire by the front of his frilly shirt and shaking him roughly.  “Ain’t life grand?!”

Sebastian fainted dead away.

“Aw geez,” groaned Stacey as the other vampire went completely limp and fell against him.  “What a wuss!”

“Oh, way to go!  You killed him!” Dorian howled accusingly.

“I did not!  He just fainted, the big baby,” replied Stacey, struggling with the wilted vampire.  “And I think he’s coming on to me!  Stupid bastard!”

“And you two look so cute together!  You getting this, Tom?” asked Dorian.

“Every second of it,” replied the professor, who was carefully balanced on the Chevelle’s doorframe, video camera aimed right at Stacey and Sebastian.

“Jeezum crow, don’t do that!” squawked Stacey, letting go of Sebastian and pushing him backwards, so that the other vampire fell backwards onto the pavement, his head making a loud thump as it hit.  All four of the vampires looked at Sebastian’s prone form for a few moments, and then Stacey shrugged.  “Well, let’s get going.  I want to get the Megarena before Erotic Suicide starts playing . . . I’m not missing ‘em again.”  He turned and started heading for the car, limping just a little bit from bouncing across the pavement with the coffin a few short minutes before.

“Wait a second, we can’t just leave him there,” protested Dorian.

“Sure we can,” argued Stacey.  “Now get in the back with Tommy, I’m riding shotgun.”

“No way.  This is like one of the worst neighborhoods in town, we can’t leave the goof laying here like this . . . he might get raped or something before he wakes back up.”

“Aw, he’ll wake up before anything bad happens,” said Stacey, reaching the car and making shooing motions to Dorian.

Tommy focused the video camera on the unconscious vampire and studied him for a few seconds.  “I’m not so sure of that.  His breathing’s shallow, and he’s several shades paler than usual.  We traumatized him rather severely, after all.  Truth be told, he’s probably lucky we didn’t kill him.  In the state he’s in, he might not wake up before sunrise.”

“Yeah, after everything we did to him, we owe him that much, at least,” said Dorian.

Stacey rolled his eyes.  “Oh sure, this from the guy that was throwing everybody’s drinks at me!  Which I owe you for, by the way,” he said, and then punched Dorian in the shoulder several times, causing the blond-haired vampire to yelp.  “Inconsiderate dickhead.  Do you know how hard it is to ride on a coffin speeding down the road at speeds in excess of 70 miles an hour, even when you’ve got chains to hold onto?  That shit ain’t easy, dude!  Where was the concern for me, huh?  Where was the love for Stacey?  Nowhere, buddy!  I could’ve gotten knocked off into traffic and gotten squashed by a bus or something!  And you know what?  You would’ve laughed about it!  And now this dumbass passes out because he can’t take the heat, and you’re all lovey-dovey about helping him?  Dorian, I honestly wonder about you, a lot.”

“I don’t like him, either, but I just wanted to goof on the schmuck, not kill him or get him raped through our negligence,” said Dorian.  “Unlike some people, I actually do have a heart.”

“Hmm, you could’ve fooled me when you started giggling like a loon when you heard Sebastian start screaming,” interjected Tommy.  “You seemed to find a great deal of pleasure in another person’s misfortunes.  And wasn’t it your idea to drag the coffin behind the car?  As I recall, Stacey just wanted to launch it from a catapult and be done with it.”

“You ladies are breaking my heart with all this yipping,” said Steele dryly, revving his Chevelle’s engine impatiently.  “Just toss him in the trunk and we can drop him off at the Manhole Club on the way to the Megarena.  I’m sure some guy will be happy to take him home.  Let’s get going, because I don’t want to miss Erotic Suicide, either.  Especially not when they’re opening for Twisted Sister.”

“Oh hey, we could probably pick up Bushwhack Bill at the Manhole!” Stacey said, hurrying back over to Sebastian, grabbing him by the ankles, and quickly dragging him across the grimy parking lot towards Steele’s car.  “It’s Chippendales Night, and Bushwhack Bill never misses that!”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” asked Dorian snidely, flopping a hand in Stacey’s direction.

“Shaddup!” growled the diminutive vampire.

After unceremoniously stuffing Sebastian in the trunk, Stacey scurried back around to the passenger door and raised an incredibly childish fuss until Dorian finally relinquished the front seat to him, and the quartet of troublemakers sped off into the Los Angeles night, congratulating themselves on a prank well executed.  In the trunk of the Chevelle, Sebastian was still thankfully unconscious, and he remained that way until Stacey gleefully dropped the passed-out vampire on top of Bushwhack Bill, who reacted with the particular fury that only an irked midget can manage; in this case, he broke a bottle over Sebastian’s head and then “playfully” tried to gouge Stacey with it.  All in all, it was a pretty horrible night for Sebastian.

Though he survived the prank without any lasting effects (physical, at least), Sebastian didn’t lighten up in the least from the incident; in fact, if anything, he actually became even more morose.  But he never, ever slept in a coffin again.