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“A ruff!” Ed was saying. “That’s brilliant, did you make it yourself?”
“No, that’s the best part!” The foppish vampire, who looked like he’d be kicked out of a community theater troupe for being too much, flashed his incisors at Ed. “I’ve discovered an association of costumed players online, they’re a dab hand with a needle and thread!”
“That so?” Ed said. He had the vampire crowded against a tree, trying to lick his neck through yards of starched fabric. Izzy had to look away.
“Is the fight still on?” Fang asked uncertainly as he eyed the other vampires.
“Does it fucking look like the fight is still fucking on?” Izzy snapped. By the tree, Ed had managed to find a bit of bare skin and was nosing at it while the vampire giggled. Giggled! Nobody over the age of five should make such a sound in Izzy’s book, let alone a creature pushing 500 and with the crow’s feet to prove it.
Another vampire approached, this one with sideburns and a plaid neckerchief. (What was with these vamps and their neckwear anyway?) “Yeah, so, since this blood feud thing looks like it’s being postponed, some of us are going to that new club? Supposed to be supernatural-friendly. You and your guys want to join?”
Unbelievable. Izzy turned back to Ivan and Fang. “That’s it, I’m starting a new pack. You with me?”
“Well…” Fang said.
“It’s just…” Ivan hedged.
“Been meaning to check out that club anyway, see what all the fuss was about,” Fang said, and Ivan nodded.
Okay, yes, there had been some mauling when Izzy was a freshly bitten wolf, and some juvenile delinquency before that. But surely nothing Izzy had done in his life, as man or wolf, was deserving of this level of hell.