Chapter 3

Augustin considered himself lucky to have made it to the bathroom without pissing himself. “It’s a nightmare. Wake up, wake up, wake up!” He pinched himself then did it again. “Shit, that hurt.” So had bumping the dresser. But maybe he was asleep anyway, and he was just dreaming it all—like the time he’d dreamed he was in an elevator and it had started plummeting down forty stories. He’d told himself to stop the elevator, because it was just a dream and he knew it.

Of course the elevator had stopped—and the floor had dropped out of it and he’d plummeted to his death. Augustin knew for a fact that dying in your nightmare didn’t mean dying for real because he’d splattered all over the damn place then, and had woken up to laugh about it later. He’d given up on the concept of dream control, too.

Augustin turned on the sink and his bladder cramped. A quick splash of water over his face, then he turned the faucet off. He hurried to the toilet. “No way I’m wetting the bed at my age. Oh, gawd,” he drawled with relief.

Then he heard it. Augustin jolted, making a bit of a mess as he started to turn to look out of the bathroom window. He caught himself before it was an utter disaster, but it was a close thing.

Getting his dick pointed in the right direction again, he carefully turned his head just enough to see the window via his peripheral vision.

“Eek!” So he screamed like a girl, so what? The sight at the window scared the piss right back up to his bladder. Augustin shrieked again. If he was having a nightmare, he needed to wake the fuck up because there was a leering, fanged fucker clawing at the window—with long, sharp, black claws and long, sharp, white canines.

Augustin didn’t even give that last shake or tuck his junk away as he spun to gawp. The thing at the window had glowing red eyes and skin so pale it almost sparkled. There was something dark streaming from one corner of its mouth, and stringy blondish hair swirled around its head.

“No fucking way,” Augustin rasped.

Then the bastard started laughing. Augustin could hear it through the window. His heart pounded so hard he couldn’t get a decent breath. He clutched at his chest. He was going to die, going to have that heart attack he’d always feared.

That’s when it got worse.

The creature pointed at him and cackled louder.

No, not at him. At his dick.

Augustin’s cheeks flared hot and he quickly shoved his dick in his briefs. “Fuck you, asshole!” he shouted. “I’m a grower, and of course it shrinks when I’m scared! And cold!” he added because he’d gone from hot to chilled to the bone. He was dreaming, he reminded himself. That creature couldn’t hurt him. The reminder made Augustin braver… Or more stupid. “At least I’m alive! And I’ve got blood in these veins that can make this”—he grabbed his crotch—“big enough to shut you up!”

That got him a sneer and an eye roll.

“Oh no you didn’t.” This is just a dream, just a dream. The reminder didn’t help his temper. Augustin took a couple of steps toward the window. Jesus, his heart could not possibly beat any faster. “You’re not real. Go away before I toss some holy water on you.”

The thing’s face contorted and Augustin realized it was laughing at him! “Oh yeah?” he huffed. He dumped his toothbrush out of the cup he kept it in, turned on the tap and filled the cup with water. “Bless this water and make it kill vampires, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and every other deity that may or may not exist, because I don’t freakin’ know.”

Now he could hear that fucker howling with laughter. Augustin turned the faucet off. He held up the cup. “It’s as holy as any other water, you douche munch.”

That got the creature to stop laughing.

“Vampire,” Augustin mumbled. “This is what I get for snooping around that stupid site. Nightmares about idiotic, fugly vampires.”

The vampire didn’t like that description at all. Augustin could tell by the way it started smacking the window and snarling, its fangs hitting the glass, spittle flying from its mouth. And the stupid monster flipped him off!

“Oh, fuck you back, you rotting hunk of dirt,” Augustin snapped. He wasn’t scared now. He was totally convinced he was asleep, and since he knew he could die in a nightmare and not really die in life, what was there to fear?

Still, he hesitated before taking the last couple of steps to the window. Even in a bad dream, he wasn’t exactly eager to keel over. “You can’t come in here. You’re not welcome here,” he muttered, spouting off the first—well, second—thing he remembered about vampire folklore. The holy water was the first. “I’ve got garlic! Lots of it!” he said exuberantly. “And I can make a crucifix—” Augustin did so with his fingers and sloshed water all over the floor and himself. “Shit!”

The vampire cackled and shook that middle finger at him.

“Oh yeah? This doesn’t count?” Augustin had always wondered when he’d watched those cheesy vampire movies why crossing your fingers to make a human crucifix didn’t work. He didn’t have an answer now, but apparently whatever stupid rule applied in those movies also applied in his nightmares. “Fine,” he huffed. He settled for tossing the rest of the water at the window.

To his surprise, the vampire howled and shot backward. Then it was Augustin’s turn to laugh. “Like it’s going to touch you through the glass.” But he understood the reaction. It was like someone turning the hose on you when you were looking out of the window. You jumped just out of instinct.

Still, it was funny to see it happen. “Hehehehe, moron.” He took a step and squealed when his foot slid. “Ack!”

For one horrible moment, Augustin thought he was going to do the splits and possibly lose his balls. He flailed his arms but balance wasn’t part of the picture anymore. He fell, tipping head first toward the window.

Augustin flung one hand out to keep from decapitating himself. His hand slapped the glass and it gave beneath his weight. At first he didn’t even feel the pain when the glass cut him. He’d managed to grab the window frame with his other hand, so he hadn’t bashed his brains out.

But then he realized something dreadful.

His right hand and most of his arm was now outside, and he was bleeding—

And that ugly fucking vampire was reaching for his wrist. The thing licked its lips and had a hold of him in a move so fast Augustin didn’t even see it happen.

“Now who’s laughing?” the God-awful creature asked in a voice that made Augustin’s legs shake. The vampire smacked its lips. “Not you,” it said wretchedly.

Augustin jerked his arm back to no avail. The vampire held onto him. “This is just a dream. It’s just a dream,” Augustin mumbled, something very much like absolute terror clogging his throat.

“Is it?” the vampire asked. “Of course it is. So invite me in. It’s just a dream after all.”

And that didn’t reassure Augustin at all. He was suddenly and thoroughly sure that it wasn’t a dream. “I h-had l-lots of g-garlic with d-dinner,” he got out between chattering teeth. He pulled back harder and only succeeded in nearly dislocating his shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as you’ve already ingested it.”

Augustin could only watch in horror as the vampire raised his wrist. Then the creature licked over the bleeding wound and shuddered.

“Oh, divine,” it murmured.

Augustin wasn’t going to be dinner for the spawn of Satan or Lilith, whatever the hell a vampire was! He hauled back with his other hand, would have swung his fist except a dark figure shot out of nowhere and tackled the vampire.

Augustin’s arm was almost yanked off before he was let go. He toppled backward onto his ass.

“You idiot,” he heard a deep, masculine voice say. “You can’t attack humans!”

Augustin sat up and shrieked again when he saw another vampire at the window. “Oh my God! Go away!”

“You’re bleeding rather profusely,” the second—or was it a third? He didn’t know anymore—vampire said. “You need help.”

“Not your kind of help,” Augustin snapped. He grabbed his bleeding wrist and squeezed. It made his head spin from the pain. “Urgh! This can’t be real!”

“Let me in. I’ll help.”

Augustin looked at the vampire. This one seemed less malevolent, and he’d bet that was the fucker’s hook. “Trust me, I only want a sip,” he grumbled. “Fuck off. I prefer to keep all my blood to myself.”

The vampire—a rather attractive male with short, auburn hair and…well, damn, red eyes—smirked at him. “I’ve already fed, but a few licks can seal your wound.”

“Right,” Augustin snorted. “Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?”

“You look like the turnip truck ran you over,” the vampire said. “Twice.”

“I’d invite you in if I had a crucifix nearby,” Augustin ground out.

“Well, that must be good enough,” the vampire informed him, reaching through the broken glass and flipping the window’s lock.

“What? No!” Augustin scampered to his feet. “Out, out, back! Bad vampire! Bad vampire!”

Apparently the vampire wasn’t trained, because he pushed the window open then came in as if he’d been invited.

Augustin was totally blaming the faint he felt coming on on blood loss.