Fanghunters by Leo Romero Page A

head like marbles.
    Dom looked down at his hands. I’m alive.
I don’t believe it. I’m frickin’ alive, buddy!
    An ominous click made his head flinch up.
His jaw dropped. He found himself staring at the person who’d just saved his
life. A slim, leggy chick in black boots. She was young, attractive, with short
cropped hair. Perched on her petit nose were round blue specs, the kind of thing
a pop star might be seen sporting. She was clad from head to toe in black; turtle
neck, leather trousers. Her body was svelte; tight. Looked like she worked out.
Often. And from the way she dealt with the big guy, Dom didn’t wanna mess with
her. Dom looked her up and down in a drunken daze, hardly believing she was
real.
    “You okay?” she asked Dom, her stare fixed
on the guy she’d just kicked.
    Dom was too dumbstruck to answer. His eyes
then fell on the gun in her hand. He gasped.
        Over on the stairs, the guy’s dizzy
eyes came back into focus. He laid them on the gun, then the chick holding it.
Without another thought, he growled and lunged for her.
        The chick was unfazed. “Nighty night,
big boy,” she said in an ultra-cool tone before she aimed her gun and pulled
the trigger.
        Dom winced, expecting to hear a loud
report and blood to spurt. Instead, the gun made a soft ‘phut’ sound. The big
guy’s aggressive lunge immediately melted into a harmless token gesture. He
flopped down on the floorboards by her high heels and stayed there.
    Dom watched on, bewildered. Something was
going on here, something he didn’t totally understand. A minute ago he was a
dead man, now the guy about to kill him was lying on the floor in a heap.
    The chick poked the guy’s body with the tip
of her boot like a big game hunter having just downed a lion. When satisfied
his threat had been neutralized, she turned her attention to Dom.
    Dom’s eyes snapped up to meet her.
    She stared down at him from behind her blue
glasses, a half smile on her face. “Hi,” she said.
    Dom stared at her in awe. He was rendered
speechless. He didn’t know whether to thank her or be scared shitless of her.
He then lowered his eyes to the gun in her hand; it hung languidly by her side.
He rolled his eyes over at the big guy.
    “Looks like I got here just in time,” the
chick then said. “Don’t worry about him,” she said, cocking her head to the
side and reloading her gun. “He’s not dead, just taking a snooze.”
    Dom flicked his eyes over at the guy on the
ground; he now noticed his chest was rising and lowering in a steady rhythm.
    “Here,” the chick then said, making Dom
look back up at her. She handed him the gun. “Try this on your friend
upstairs,” she advised.
    Dom flinched at first, and then tentatively
reached for the gun. “What is it?” he asked.
    “Holy water,” she replied. “One shot should
do the trick.”
    Dom frowned. “ Holy water? ” he echoed
to himself, staring at the gun now in his hand like it was an alien artifact.
He looked up at her. “For real?”
    “Absolutely. The darts in that dart gun
will deal with your fanged problem. Good luck.” She then turned to leave. “Oh,
almost forgot!” she said suddenly, turning back to face Dom. “You should wear
these...” She pulled the blue glasses off her nose.
    Dom gasped, his mouth a big O. He found
himself staring at the greenest, emerald-sparkling eyes he’d ever seen. They
were lashed to perfection and glittered like stars even in the low-light. He
found himself transfixed, frozen like he’d just been iced by a vamp.
    She held out the glasses. “Take them. He
can’t ice you if you’re wearing blue lenses.”
    Dom just stared at them stupidly.
    “It’s just a thing,” she said with a shrug.
“I don’t know why...”
    Dom reached out and took them from her
without realizing he was doing so. “ I think I might need them for you... ”
he mumbled to himself, his gaze still fixated on her. She was like some kind of
guardian angel, a