In the end, Billy Jean didn't get a taste of Michael Joke's blood.

  She slurped down another bag of the red stuff and her teeth grew back.

  All in all, it'd been a heck of a productive day.

  Billy Jean trailed after Michael Joke out of the mall, feeling pretty pleased with herself and ready to hit the road home.

  But lo and behold, the military vehicle they'd parked right outside was MIA.

  “Michael Joke, where's the car? Didn't you park it here?”

  Billy Jean was gobsmacked.

  “Pretty obvious, isn't it? It got stolen.”

  Michael Joke's face was as dark as a storm cloud.

  There were a bazillion abandoned cars littering the road, but the thief had zeroed in on his.

  Guess the thief had some taste.

  His car was tricked out, with top-notch performance, safety features, and anti-theft gizmos.

  But somehow, the crook still managed to make off with it.

  So this thief had to be no ordinary Joe.

  Probably a superpower, to boot.

  “Then what's the plan? How do we track down the thief?”

  Just when the two were scratching their heads, a Zompige flapped over and landed on Billy Jean's shoulder.

  “Coo… Hey there, friend. Long time no see."

  Billy Jean craned her neck and saw it was Zompige, the one who'd cut her loose.

  “Roar… Scram. I'm not in the mood to shoot the breeze with you right now."

  “Coo… Well, lemme take a wild guess. Did someone swipe your car and now you're in a funk?"

  Billy Jean eyeballed it in shock.

  “Roar… How'd you know that?"

  After a second of slow-motion thinking, she glared at it, fit to be tied.

  “Roar… You stole it, didn't you? Fess up!"

  The Zompige lifted a wing and bonked itself on the head.

  Unbelievable! What was she thinking?

  This was her first vampire pal.

  No matter how ditzy she was, it had to grin and bear it.

  “Coo… I know which way the car thief skedaddled. I can lead you to the perp."

  Billy Jean's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Roar… Zompige, you're a gem. I'm over the moon to have you as a friend."

  Zompige:??

  That's not what you were hollering a minute ago.

  Billy Jean couldn't wait to spill the beans to Michael Joke.

  “Michael Joke, great news…”

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  Michael Joke cut her off at the pass.

  “I heard. No time to waste. Let the Zompige show us the way.”

  Billy Jean was flabbergasted.

  Then she looked at Michael Joke with a pained expression, like she was about to burst into tears.

  “When did it happen?”

  Michael Joke was stumped by her question.

  “When did what happen?”

  “You turned into a vampire. I'm so sorry. I didn't even notice. You must be hurting on the inside.”

  Billy Jean was drowning in guilt.

  She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve and blew her nose like a foghorn.

  Michael Joke:??

  Zompige:??

  The more Billy Jean thought about it, the sadder she got.

  She threw her arms around Michael Joke and let the waterworks flow.

  “Woo-hoo… My food stash! I'm so pitiful. I finally found a food stash, and now you've gone and joined the undead. It's a tragedy.”

  At first, Michael Joke was a bit touched.

  But when he heard her crazy thought process, he was fit to be tied.

  “Okay, knock it off with the crying. You sound like a pig at the slaughterhouse. I didn't turn into a vampire.”

  Billy Jean snapped her head up from his arms so fast you'd think it was on a spring.

  There wasn't a single tear on her face.

  “What? You didn't turn into a vampire? Then how could you understand what Zompige and I were yapping in vampire-speak?”

  Michael Joke pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

  “I don't understand your so-called vampire language. I took a wild guess from your expressions. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

  Billy Jean shoved Michael Joke away, hot under the collar.

  “You jerk. You made me cry. You hurt my feelings.”

  “It's because you're bummed that your food stash has become one of your kind and you can't suck blood anymore, right?”

  Michael Joke sneered.

  “You… you… what are you talking about?”

  Billy Jean played dumb.

  Michael Joke glared at Billy Jean, his face as red as a beet.

  “Sometimes I really wanna wring your neck.”

  Billy Jean batted her innocent eyes.

  She was just a mindless walking corpse.

  She didn't understand human gab.

  The Zompige flew up front, playing tour guide.

  Michael Joke hopped on a motorcycle with Billy Jean on the back.

  Abandoned, dusty jalopies and vampires milling around like lost sheep were everywhere you looked.

  The whole city was like a ghost town.

  Weeds were popping up through the cracks in the pavement, and moss was taking over the floor tiles.

  Shop signs on either side of the street had toppled over, and broken glass was scattered all over like confetti.

  Everything looked like it'd been through the wringer and left for dead.

  The motorcycle tore through the streets like a bat out of hell, kicking up a dust storm.

  The vampires on the sidewalks only saw a blur zip by and got a mouthful of dirt.

  Billy Jean was perched on the back seat, hugging Michael Joke's waist, feeling the wind in her hair and the speed in her bones.

  But it was murder on her hairdo.

  Her hair was flying every which way, like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket.

  After about twenty minutes of hauling butt, the motorcycle cruised into a ritzy villa area and finally screeched to a halt in front of one of the mansions.

  Someone must've been on vampire patrol around here.

  For now, there wasn't a single shambler in sight.

  This villa was surrounded by high-voltage fences, like a medieval fortress.

  “Coo… This is it. End of the line."

  Who'd have thought the Zompige would land smack dab on the power grid.

  “Zizz…”

  A jolt of electricity zapped through it, and the smell of burnt feathers filled the air.

  The Zompige nosedived.

  “Wha…t the heck!”

  Billy Jean blurted out, her voice as dry as the desert.

  She hopped off the motorcycle like a jackrabbit and scooped up the fallen Zompige.

  “Roar… Zompige, you okay? Hang in there!"

  The Zompige's feathers were charred black, and smoke was curling out of its beak.

  “Michael Joke, save it. It looks like it's circling the drain.”

  Billy Jean yelled.

  Michael Joke first stashed the motorcycle in his space ring.

  He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

  He strode over, all long legs and swagger, and fished a bag of blood out of his space ring and handed it to Billy Jean.

  The Zompige's dull eyes perked up a little when it saw the blood and let out a feeble coo:

  “Coo… coo…”

  Who'd have thought Billy Jean would snatch the blood bag, jam it in her mouth, and start chugging.

  Zompige:??

  Isn't that for me?

  Michael Joke:!!

  Billy Jean was guzzling the blood, shaking the Zompige like a maraca.

  “Woo-hoo… Zompige, don't die! Michael Joke, what are you standing there for? Save Zompige!”

  Zompige, who was on death's door even if she wasn't:

  I really owe you one.

  Michael Joke: …

  He had no choice but to pull another blood bag from his space ring and hand it to Billy Jean.

  “Here…”

  “Thanks…”

  Before Michael Joke could get a word in edgewise, Billy Jean cut him off.

  She spat out the empty blood bag and was about to stuff the new one in her mouth.

  Michael Joke shot out a hand and stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “This is for the Zompige.”

  The Zompige looked at Michael Joke like he was Santa Claus.

  There were still good guys in the world.

  With the blood bag just inches from her lips but out of reach, Billy Jean immediately puckered up and gave Michael Joke the puppy-dog eyes.

  “Sniff… I'm starving. I could eat a horse.”

  The Zompige was praying Michael Joke would yank the blood bag away from Billy Jean and hand it to it.

  But the next second, it saw Michael Jope pull his hand back.

  “Drink slowly. Is one bag enough?”

  Zompige:!!

  It really hated people with no backbone.