[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER TWENTY

Klot had encountered a problem.

Not only was his stolen car nearly out of fuel; since he was a fugitive from the government who had supposedly been killed some days ago, he had no license, and slaves were not permitted to purchase fuel anyway. Technically, he wasn’t a slave, but all Fanguses were regarded as slaves in the Vamp Empire.

This could be a…problem, he thought.

Then he saw something up ahead. It looked like…another vehicle. He recognized it as a large double-decker transport car, pulling behind it one of the enormous metal carrying crates the Vamps used for transporting slaves.

His eyes narrowed, and his hands clamped tighter around the wheel. Never again will I stand and watch as slaves are put under the thumbs of the Vamps, he swore. Never again.

He cast his brain to work on the problem. He would be alongside the truck in approximately ten seconds, and he had no gun, his car was practically out of fuel, and there would be Vamps with Inriks in the cockpit. The outside of the carrying crate would be protected by a shield.

As the car sputtered and began to slow as it ran out of fuel intake, Klot gave way to an uncharacteristic spasm of emotion, in the form of banging his fist on the steering wheel.

An unforeseen consequence of his action was that the steering wheel snapped off and fell into his lap, and the car swung sideways, cutting across the path of the truck as it came to a halt. He caught a brief glimpse of the Vamps in the cockpit of the truck, their eyes widening in shock at his unexpected spin.

He was four seconds away from impact.

Klot turned, slapped the button to de-energize the driver’s door, and leapt out. He hit the dirt alongside the road in a somersault and came back up to his feet, but before he could turn around, he heard a most unOddworldly crunch as metal hit metal. He thought he’d heard a scream.

When he completed his turn, it was to see the truck buried up to its windshield in his car, completely crushing his former vehicle. One of the Vamp drivers was pinned against the back of the cab by a heap of rubble, the other was already throwing open the door and jumping out, Inrik in hand.

Klot wished he had a gun. He spat on the ground; for this job, his fists would just have to do.

The Vamp saw him, and his eyes widened in amazement and disbelief. “Klot? Fangus Klot! You’re dead!”

Klot took advantage of his surprise to dive forward, catching the Vamp around his skinny ankles. The guard screeched and fell forward, and as he came within range, Klot swung up one foot, bashing the Vamp in the face. The guard spun a full 140 degrees in the air and came down on his back. When he did, Klot had one fist raised, and brought it down full in the Vamp’s neck.

There was an audible crack, and the guard lay still.

Klot picked up the Inrik and moved toward the carrying crate.

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