Hot for Slayer

by Ali Hazelwood

Fuck him and his dry-cleaning bill.

When he noticed my eyes on him, he lifted the blade up to his face. And with a smile that did not feel like a smile, he began to lick it clean of my blood. It was . . . Well. It just was.

My motto is: If I have to suck someone dry every few weeks, why not make it a Goldman Sachs executive?

thought it was shitty of him not to give me some warning before resorting to violence—a courtesy horse head in my bed, a scribbled note pinned to my door with a bloody dagger.

What a time to be undead.

Is that a stake in his pocket, or is he just glad to see me?

“Some lives run invisibly. Undetected by most. And when a person comes along who sees those lives for what they are, who acknowledges their reality, who reminds people that there is value in different ways of existing . . . A minute of that is worth more than a thousand nights with a lover. Wouldn’t you agree?”