Dancing Nitely Read Free

mini-cam. Wellman was justifiably proud of his private
library of atrocity footage. Even Mavrides had to admit to being
impressed by his companion’s personal archive.
    “ Well, it doesn’t look like
he’ll be breeding any further champions from this one,” Mavrides remarked drily as
the cage was lowered to the stage. Doktor Keckhaver stood waiting
to claim his winner, the veterinarian for his stable beside
him.
    Now that the killing lust
had fled, Mueller was feeling the effects of his emasculation. He
collapsed across George’s body, his eyes glazing as he gripped his
cooling flesh. The shivers caused by the oncoming shock made it
look as if he was grieving for his fallen opponent. The vet hurried
into the cage and squatted next to the fallen giant. He glanced at
Keckhaver and shook his head. Either way, this would be Mueller’s
last fight.
    The Master of Ceremonies
stepped forward, waving the chattering crowd into silence. “Well,
ladies and gentlemen; what shall it be for our brave contestant? Is
it ‘yea’ or ‘nay’?”
    There was quiet for a
second, and then the audience answered in unison, their voices
joined in a primitive singsong: “One of us ! One of us! One of us! ”
    The Master of Ceremonies
nodded his approval and turned to look at Keckhaver. “So, Doktor?
What will it be?”
    The tall, moon-faced
vampire paused to stroke his goatee, lost in thought as he stared
at his dying champion, then nodded. A ragged cheer burst from the
spectators. The veterinarian pocketed his stethoscope and returned
the pre-mixed lethal injection to his little black bag.
    “ Do it,” Keckhaver
ordered.
    The veterinarian nodded his
understand and then sank his fangs into Mueller’s neck, rewarding
the fighter with the prize every champion that enters the cage
strives for: immortality.
    Mavrides looked away,
already bored. Wellman climbed back down from his vantage point
atop of the table. “I think I got it,” he muttered aloud. “But we’re too far
from the stage to tell for sure.”
    “ So, what did you think?”
grinned Smith.
    Mavrides glanced back at
the stage; Mueller’s body was being carefully removed from the cage
and placed in a portable coffin. In three days’ time the fighter
would rise from the dead and take his place amongst vampire
society. George’s mutilated carcass, on the other hand, was being
dragged away by its heels and would be used to boost the protein
levels of the club’s cellar.
    “ I imagine he’s not going to
appreciate coming back minus his dick,” he replied with a
shrug.
    “ Ain’t that the truth!” Smith
guffawed.
    A glimpse of red mane and
black satin caught Mavrides’ attention. It was Countess Delphe,
looking a bit miffed as she shouldered her way to the
bar.
    “ Excuse me a moment, would
you, Smith?” Mavrides muttered.
    The Countess was standing
to a trembling, watery-eyed junkie whose milk-white body crawled
with gooseflesh. Mavrides wondered if it was the effect of the drug
or the intensity of the Countess’s expression that made the human
shiver.
    “ I’m sorry your fighter
lost,” he said.
    Delphe glanced at him as
she drew a double shot from the junkie’s shunt. “It
happens.”
    Mavrides shifted his
weight, suddenly feeling awkward. “Yeah, well...Could I buy you a
drink?”
    She looked at him again,
this time a little longer. “You’re not nouveau , are you.” It wasn’t a
question. “You’re one of Smith’s protégés, am I right?”
    “ Yeah. I was converted in
‘69.”
    She smiled, exposing the
curve of her fangs against her full lower lip. “ Nineteen Sixty-Nine? Then you’re
still young. Not as immature as these yahoos, though.” She waved
disparagingly to the others dressed in
their opera capes and Elvira wigs. “But that’s okay.” Her smile
widened. “I like them young.”
    Mavrides didn’t bother to
tell Smith or Wellman where he was going. They were used to his
sudden disappearances by now. Although Wellman envied