Reality Bites by Nicola Rhodes Page B

throat.  Somehow, this galvanised Stiles into action.  He took an inept swing at the furry ball of menace, managing to cut off the tip of a tail. The wolf howled and turned on him. ‘Oh hell!’  The other two followed suit. 
    Kitty whacked heads and two more fell dead.  Stiles got the third in the chest.  He was shaking – sure he was going to be sick, but Kitty was perfectly calm. 
    ‘Stupid animals,’ she said.  ‘They’ll never learn the art of “divide and conquer”.’  She patted Stiles on the arm.  ‘Well done,’ she said, as he vomited on her boots.
     
    It was around two in the afternoon, and they were still a mile or so from the Inn, according to Kitty, when it suddenly started to go dark.
    ‘Storm coming?’ said Stiles.
    ‘Hmm,’ said Kitty, doubtfully.  ‘It doesn’t feel like a storm.’
    ‘But it’s only two O’ clock.  It doesn’t go dark at two, even in Scotland – if that’s where we are.’
    ‘Shhh – listen.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘We’re being ambushed.’
    The vampires came at them suddenly from three directions.  It was already too dark to count them. They had arrived in complete silence – Stiles had not heard a thing; he wondered how Kitty had.  She was definitely an unusual girl; to witness, the first thing she did was push Stiles to the ground. ‘Stay down,’ she hissed, ‘I’ll deal with this. 
    There then began an eerie and silent battle. Stiles stayed down watching in wonder.  The way she moved!  She was little more than a blur, and her eyesight must be incredible.  “Kitty” was right – she had the night vision of a cat. 
    She abruptly tossed him a stake.  ‘On your six,’ she called (who talks like that?) 
    He stabbed wildly in the dark, how had she known?  He couldn’t see a thing.  He closed his eyes – he was not sure that he could not see better that way, and he suddenly choked on a cloud of ash that exploded around him.  Then he was being helped up and thumped on the back.
    ‘You all right?  I think that’s all of them. Let’s get out of here.’
    Stiles wiped his streaming eyes.  ‘Okay, that’s it,’ he said.  ‘I have to know, who are you?’
    ‘I could ask you the same question.’
    ‘What?  What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, they sure are determined to get you.  You have to wonder why.’
    ‘I told you; I don’t know.  I can’t think of anything.’
    ‘All I know is – it’s weird.  Vampires, from what I understand, are not the most co-operative of species – more backstabbing than the House of Commons.  And yet look at this lot, all working together just to kill one man – you.  There must be some compelling reason.’
    ‘Maybe they don’t like my politics.’
    ‘This isn’t funny, you know.’
    ‘I know, believe me, I know.’
     
    They had reached the inn before Stiles realised that she had quite adroitly avoided his questioning again.  Perhaps he was losing his touch; she was a real tough nut to crack. It only made him more curious about her.  Who she was, was more of a burning question to his mind than why a bunch of vampires – vampires for God’s sake – wanted to kill him.
    He was mentally listing what he already knew about her.  She had lied about her name for some reason that he could not fathom.  She had apparently been watching him for some weeks, incognito, before he had met her, so she was secretive, why?  Was she afraid he would have heard of her?  This was unlikely in the extreme.  He had never heard of any woman who was extremely fast and extremely strong, like superhero strong and fast.  She had claimed to be a vampire slayer, but had slipped up here and admitted that she herself had not believed in vampires until recently.  Put it all together and you had – what? Absolutely no progress whatsoever; she was a conundrum, one that he intended to crack.  It was probably a severe character flaw he realised; he just could not stop thinking like a copper.
    He got another clue