The henchmen′ eyes were bugging out with terror, feet glued to the floor.

  Even the dumbest of them could tell this vampire wasn’t your run-of-the-mill undead.

  Nobody wanted to be the guinea pig, fearing they’d end up like their chomped-on buddy.

  Too bad for them, Billy Jean wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

  She pounced like a bolt of lightning, charging at the group.

  “Ah...”

  The henchmen freaked out, scattering like roaches.

  Scarfman’s face went white as a sheet, watching his crew turn into a bunch of scaredy-cats.

  He gnashed his teeth in rage.

  “Fight back, you wimps!

  One lousy vampire’s got you all shaking in your boots?

  What a bunch of losers!”

  The henchmen traded nervous glances, gritted their teeth, and braced for a last-ditch stand.

  But the second they turned, the first two guys got snatched up by a pair of razor-sharp claws around their necks.

  Staring into those dead, murky eyes, they shivered like leaves.

  “Ah ah...”

  The others backed away, yelping like puppies.

  “Let... me go, let... go,”

  The trapped guys thrashed around, but those dainty-looking arms holding them were as firm as steel, even if chunks of rotting flesh peeled off.

  Billy Jean peeked at the falling-off flesh on her arm, a wince flashing in her eyes.

  “Roar... Damn it",”

  With a grunt, Billy Jean chucked the two henchmen downstairs.

  “AAAH...”

  Their shrieks cut through the air.

  Next thing you know, the screams died, replaced by the gnashing and gobbling sounds.

  Billy Jean fought like a whirling dervish, a blur of motion.

  No matter how The henchmen wriggled free, she’d snatch them up and hurl them down, one by one.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The first floor was now a bloodbath, a crimson pool spreading, limbs and body bits strewn everywhere.

  Billy Jean hoisted up the last henchman, ready to send him flying too.

  The henchman’s face drained of color, begging for his life non-stop.

  “Save me, I don’t want to die, somebody help me.”

  Just then, a dull thud sounded from behind Billy Jean’s head.

  It was Scarfman, grinning like a devil as he jammed a dagger into her skull.

  “Haha... Billy Jean, croak already,”

  He cackled like a madman, shoving the whole blade in.

  The dagger skewered Billy Jean’s skull clean through.

  The henchman in her grip thought he was home free, that he’d dodged the vampire buffet.

  But nope, the next second, he was airborne, sailing downstairs courtesy of Billy Jean.

  The henchman’s eyes popped wide, horror-stricken.

  Why was this happening?

  She’d been stabbed in the head!

  Why wasn’t she dead?

  He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  So not fair.

  “Ah... Even in death, I won’t let you go,” he wailed in despair.

  In a blink, he was swallowed up by the vampire horde, his pitiful screams fading into the chaos.

  Soon, it was dead quiet, save for the vampires’ chomping.

  Scarfman was now a statue of fear, sweat dripping down his temple.

  Because right in front of him, Billy Jean had cranked her head around a full 180, her murky eyes boring into him.

  She reached up, yanked the dagger out, and cold blood sprayed his way.

  Scarfman shuddered, holding his breath.

  Billy Jean’s stare was like a cobra’s, ready to strike and choke the life out of him.

  The unknown was the scariest thing.

  Unable to take the heat, Scarfman spun on his heel and bolted.

  Billy Jean’s lips curled into a devilish grin.

  Too late.

  A sharp pain stabbed the back of Scarfman’s head, and he crumpled, out cold.

  When Scarfman came to, he found himself tied to a chair.

  In front of him was a table, and Billy Jean was fussing over something on it.

  A glint of silver caught his eye, and he saw it clear as day — a knife and fork.

  Then he watched Billy Jean set the dinner plate just so, arrange the cutlery neatly, and pull a tall wine glass from her bag.

  She polished it with a white cloth until it sparkled.

  She held it up to the light, admiring the prism effect before she was satisfied and set it down.

  Then she draped the white cloth around her neck, moving with a spooky elegance.

  If this was a fancy Western joint, Scarfman might’ve whistled in appreciation.

  But now?

  It was just plain creepy, his hair standing on end.

  Billy Jean seemed ready to dig in, but her plate was empty.

  Where was the grub?

  That’s when he saw Billy Jean pick up the knife and fork, her murky eyes locked on him.

  Scarfman’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating like saucers.

  She wouldn’t be...

  Billy Jean looked at Scarfman’s horrified face with a sort of “gentle” smirk.

  “Roar... I’m about to start,” she hissed.

  Scarfman thrashed around like a fish out of water.

  He got Billy Jean’s drift, and now he was looking at her like she was a monster from hell.

  His dilated pupils screamed pure terror.

  Billy Jean stood up, knife in one hand, fork in the other, and stalked toward Scarfman.

  Scarfman screamed bloody murder,

  “Don’t come near me, stay away...”

  “AAAAAAH...”

  But he was a sitting duck, completely at her mercy.

  Scarfman was in agony, sweating bullets, his face ashen.

  Seeing Billy Jean closing in again, he howled in despair,

  “Get away from me, don’t you dare come closer, get away, aaaaah...”

  Another yelp of pain escaped him.

  The vampires downstairs roared like beasts.

  Hearing her “buddies” demands, Billy Jean’s gaze shifted to Scarfman, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.

  Seeing Billy Jean advancing again, knife and fork at the ready, Scarfman screeched in torment,

  “Kill me, please just kill me.”

  Billy Jean smiled at Scarfman with a “kind” look, but her skin was so taut it was spine-tingling.

  "Roar...

  Don’t sweat it, you’ll die, but first, you gotta fill my pals’ bellies,” she said.