Still, she’s kind of giving herself props. Not that she does that, give ‘props’ because that’s lame. Still, nothing else quite sticks. So, she gives herself props, for bravery, or stupidity, or something else altogether.
In any case, she’s staring down a real damn angry vampire, and he’s got backup. It looks like all of One Direction is here, skinny jeans and floppy hair united. It’s a terrible scheme these guys have, scamming on the popularity of a boy band, picking up on their fans--but then, vampires always were scum bags.
So, you don a pair of skinnies, you wear a loose shirt, and let your hair grow out. BOOM--the tweens flock to you.
The worst part? It probably would have worked on Dawn when she was younger. She’d been ALL about the Backstreet Boys.
Currently, she’s a little less welcoming, a little more hostile. She has a stake tucked into her waistband, a vial of holy water in her back pocket, and a big-ass cross nestled in the folds of her shirt.
Like hell, if she’ll let a tween-idol wannabe take her down.
Music pounds throughout the building, an old warehouse complex on the ocean, a port at one point. A DJ is stood on a raised dais at one end of the large warehouse, people cramming into every other space available. All that’s visible is skin and glow sticks, the only feeling that of the bass pounding through bones.
Even with the distractions, even with the motion and noise and light, Dawn had seen the vampire. He danced a little too stiffly, with little grace and moves from a past era. Hell, he had been so obvious, he practically had teeth sprouting out as he danced with a girl probably an eighth of his age.
Dawn had inserted herself, banished the younger girl with a flick of her hips. She knew this dance, knew how to lure the vampires. She’d been doing it accidentally since she was fifteen--it wasn’t so hard now.
The vamp had seemed to like her, had danced closer, pulled out a move from the eighties, spun a circle, and ended where he started. Dawn had a steak ready; barely poking out of her sleeve, the point of the wood dug into the vampire’s chest at just the right angle.
The vampire had disappeared in a poof of dust.
One or two people took notice, only to shake their heads and presumably blame the drugs they were on--Dawn kept dancing like nothing had happened. The beat actually wasn’t bad, at least.
