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4

Right About You

PARKED OUTSIDE DAXON’Shouse in Phillip’s 1967 Ford Mustang, I stared into the backseat where the vampire hunter’s obnoxiously large claymore sword was propped up all on its own.

“What’s the deal with the sword?”

Phillip’s light cerulean eyes strayed from Daxon’s lit window to the backseat of the car. “Are you asking about my sword? Blood Slayer?”

Blood Slayer?

If that was what he named the sword, I couldn’t even laugh. It was too lame. It was quite literally the worst, unoriginal sword name in the history of sword names. Phillip’s hot guy stock would plummet if anyone at school knew the truth.

For too many reasons to count, I hesitated, voice pitched uncomfortably. “Yes?”

Two seconds later, Phillip was off rambling about his sword. “In the days of kings and queens, Blood Slayer was forged with the precious metal of a vampire hunter’s sword that vanquished hundreds of vampires in a single night. Said to be made of a special metal to instantly decapitate any foe, it’s a sword no one can conquer.”

So, he’d really named it Blood Slayer. Pity didn’t even begin to describe what I felt in that moment. And seriously, what was this, a history lesson? When had we started talking like we were the Knights of the Round Table?

“There’s no stronger sword. It’s the first of its kind.”

My eyebrows rose into my hairline the longer he rambled like he wasn’t talking total nonsense.

“The vampire hunter who trained me gave it to me when I outranked him.”

The excitement in his voice surprised me. The way his eyes lit up and his lips lifted with pure delight caught me totally off guard. It was the same look Grams projected when she talked about Gramps.

Of course, as someone who appreciated a good weapon, I could relate to that sort of excitement. Still, Phillip only ever smirked or expressed happiness when it was at the expense of another person.

In the week we’d known each other, Phillip rarely talked at length about anything that wasn’t work. Not that I really tried to get the Austrian to open up, but I didn’t know much about him or how long he’d been a Hunter.

I wasn’t sure if he had family, alive or dead, or if there was someone out there who worried about him. Honestly, he didn’t really strike me as the relationship sort. I was almost eighty percent confident no single person claimed him as their boyfriend, and if they did, it was likely out of misguided confusion.

“The sword is said to be cursed and only protects its one, true master. I’ve had it...” His voice softened, something totally out of character for the Austrian, and he cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve had it a long time, and it’s never failed me.”

“Yeah huh,” I said, no longer listening to the crazy person beside me. “That’s cool.”

“You have no idea how cool,” Phillip remarked with his signature smirk, then cleared his throat again. The topography of his face changed when he realized he’d gone on for nearly two minutes, and he quickly reined in his excitement. “I never go anywhere without it.”

“That must be interesting when you wander through Walmart,” I joked with a subtle glance back at the sword. “Can’t imagine how you ever made it through the tough security at any retail store.”

“I have my ways,” Phillip clapped back like it was impressive and not the saddest thing he’d said yet. “This sword has gotten me out of some pretty precarious situations.”