Sothis was the payoff. Ever since he’d been a little boy, Jules had suspected that the bad things in the universe were balanced out by good things, or vice versa. Just not necessarily of equal magnitude. Most of his life he’d spent dreading the coming deluge of shit that would follow some tiny, insignificant good thing like finding a quarter on the street. But this time,this time, the deluge of shit had comefirst. And if the universe played by its own rules, that meant the balancing payback had to be even bigger and better. Tonight, he was making love to a gorgeous young woman whose fondest wish was to become his vampire queen. Tomorrow night, he and Doodlebug would squish his mortal enemy like the sewer-crawling cockroach he was.

Veronika moaned lustily. While his mind had been wandering, she’d managed to remove his shoes, socks, and shirt, but his trousers and underpants were prompting squeals of frustration. Once he lifted his behind off the bed, the trousers came off easily enough. His underpants were more problematic, being tightly clasped between his manly belly and his overexcited soldier. Veronika solved the conundrum by ripping them off. Soon thereafter her own panties went flying across the room like a pink bat.

She pushed him down onto the bed, signaling that she wanted to be on top.Fine, Jules thought; since she was the lighter of the two of them, it was only fair that she do most of the work. Besides, the view was bound to be spectacular.

She climbed on top of him, and the room temporarily disappeared behind an engulfing curtain of flesh. Then she straddled him, and her soft hand found his eager-to-serve soldier. She wiggled her posterior a little. There was an instant of erotic limbo while the biologic geometries adjusted themselves. Then he felt it.

Mission Control, we have ignition…

Wow!Being inside her was the most intensely wonderful sensation he’d ever experienced. It was right up there with that first big gulp of blood after days of going without. His body was a Saturn V rocket, flames bursting from its base as it trembled with the mighty effort of breaking free of earth.

Gantries are clear, all systems are go He was going too fast.Way too fast. If he wanted to make this last more than five seconds, he’d better concentrate on something other than the rocket. He watched her thigh muscles bulge majestically as she pumped him for all he was worth.

Ten, nine, eight Aww, hell; there was no stopping liftoff now. The best he could do was squeeze as much sensual experience into the next few seconds as he could. He reached for her breasts seven, six, five and they were fabulously soft, so ample (he wished his hands were bigger), maybe they were phony but he didn’t care, they sure as hell feltgreat, he squeezed and squeezed four, three, two and squeezed and squeezed, she was loving it, “Yes! Yes!” she said, and then there was a funny noise that sounded something likeshplittt!

And then there were two terribly sharp-looking wooden stakes sticking out where her nipples had been.

Abort mission! Abort mission!

“Oh no!” she cried. “Notnow! NOT NOW!”

He looked up into her eyes, and paradise was lost. He saw her awful moment of indecision-to be or not to be-and then he saw the room begin to disappear as she fell forward, her right breast-stake aimed directly at his heart.

His rocket, suddenly just a frightened little soldier again, retracted into the dubious shelter of its sheath. Jules rolled to the left as quickly as his blubber-hindered muscles would allow.

“AAOWW-shit!”

The stakes missed his heart. But his right shoulder suffered a gouging, and her weight and momentum actually drove her right stake through the loose fold of skin on his upper left arm and buried it deep in the mattress. Pain supercharged his strength. He pushed her off him, bloodily dislodging the stake from his arm in the process. Veronika landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Dazed, Jules watched the blood from his torn left arm stain the white sheets crimson. He heard Veronika stirring.Fortune turns on a dime, turns on a fuckin‘ dime… He forced himself to move. His injuries were messy, but they weren’t deep-despite the pain, he still had full use of his stabbed arm.

“Jules! It was amistake! An accident! Please believe me!”

She was on her feet, her face beseeching him, her arms outstretched, begging for a forgiving embrace. But those twin stakes still pointed at his heart like the warheads on a pair of torpedoes.

“I want to be your queen! We can still make it work, darling! Let me prove my loyalty-I can help you with the black vampires!”

She came at him. He scanned the room for a defense, a weapon-anything. All there was was the uneaten half of a grapefruit.

Jimmy Cagney had the kiss-off thing down pat: a gesture was worth a thousand words. He picked up the grapefruit and mashed it in her face.

“Ahhhgh!Myeyes!”

She blindly ran to the bathroom. Jules watched with no small satisfaction as she rammed into a wall on her way. Then he retrieved his clothes. He found himself wishing he were one of those superheroes who could simply say a magic word and have their uniform appear on them, perfectly pressed. This retrieving of a wadded-up mass of clothing was getting to be an aggravating habit.

He left the room door open. Slamming it wasn’t worth the energy. He had to husband all of his energy for tomorrow, when he would finally get the Malice X monkey off his back.

Tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrowhad to be better.

Women!

The damp wind blowing off Bayou St. John felt good against Jules’s skin. It was a proud wind, a strong wind. A wind for heroes.

He placed his footlocker on the long, low hood of his Lincoln, and then he unlatched it. The cloak and hood smelled a little musty as he lifted them out of the box and unfolded them. But the breeze quickly freshened them. He wrapped the cloak around his beefy shoulders and fastened the stiff, cracked leather clasps. Then he pulled the hood over his head, gently adjusting its frayed mouth- and eyeholes. The aged fabric was more snug than he remembered it being. It felt like a second skin. A new face. A reborn face.

The wind lifted his cloak behind him and made it snap smartly, like Old Glory whipping from the topmast of a speeding destroyer chasing after deadly U-boats in the Gulf. A light rain began falling from the gray sky. It beat against his chest like a second baptism, scouring the accumulated years away. He felt like a young vampire of sixty-five again-no,fifty. There was nothing he couldn’t do. All the Veronikas and Malice X’s of the world were merely obstacles, just cases to be solved. The Dark Fright had returned.

Jules pointed to the grassy banks of the bayou, now lined by luxury condominiums and the campus of the LSU Dental School. “I can still see it, Doodlebug. It’s like it’s still there.”

“The Higgins Boat Plant?”

“Yeah. The Higgins Boat Plant. Three-quarters of a mile long. Spitting out new landing craft into the bayou as fast as you could snap yer fingers. Eisenhower said the Higgins boats won the war. And we kept the plant safe, didn’t we? For three years, we kept it safe.”

“We sure did, partner.”

Jules took a step back to appraise Doodlebug’s new costume. It consisted of a sunburst yellow leotard, metallic purple tights, a matching purple domino mask, and shiny black vinyl go-go boots. The white calfskin gloves were a nice touch. “I’m almost embarrassed to admit it,” Jules said, “but this new outfit of yours looks a helluva lot better than the old one ever did. Thanks for remembering the old color scheme, though.”

“Sure thing.” Doodlebug smiled. “Youknow I’d never pass up a perfect opportunity to dress up.”

Jules took a last look along the bayou, imagining the long-gone landing craft factory he’d invested so many long nights protecting. Then he turned toward the car. “Let’s hit the road. We got us a stakeout ahead, and I don’t want my hood gettin‘ soggy.”