“Come, my handsome vampire. I have a few things I must do to prepare you. Then I’ll put you somewhere safe to await your bride. Oh—I know!” She clapped excitedly. “You can stay inside my piggy bank! And I’ll create a drama-tastic jungle intro to your lady! How about Romancing the Stone meets Apocalypto?”

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive you for turning him into a Demilord before you put him to sleep in your piggy bank?” She shrugged. “Oooh. I hope not. I love conflict—World War Numero Dos…fucking awesome! Can’t wait for number three!”

“Cimil watched Helena disappear into the pawnshop. “Ha! Did I tell you this was gonna be drama-tastic, or what?” she said toward the roof of the car. “Just wait ‘til you see what I have coming next! That vampire’s gonna be so jealous, his head’s going to spin like a Beyblade.”

“I can’t remember how long it’s been since we’ve seen such a fab show! This was drama-tastic! Better than Romeo and Juliet. Better than The Sound of Music, South Park, Trueblood, Dexter, My Little Pony, and Shrek put together!”

“She spun to face him. “Listen, Hellboy, we need to make this quick. I have garage sales to hit and naughty souls to claim. Decide.” “I do not understand.” Was this goddess tormenting him for sport? Why did she call him “Hellboy?” How very rude! She poked at his bare chest with a razor sharp fingernail. “You hate taking orders.” Sì, true. After all, I am vampire. “And even if you decided to listen like a good little boy, the odds of pulling this off are slim to none.” I happen to excel at all things impossible. I am a vampire! “So don’t come crying if you end up in your queen’s dungeon…” Vampires do not cry, silly woman. “Tortured three times a day for all eternity, which is where you have a ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent chance of landing if you don’t do exactly as I say.” Actually, those numbers are quite encouraging. He thought his odds were somewhere between pigs flying and hell freezing over. “Buon. I understand. Tell me what you saw, what I must do.”

“Niccolo released a quick breath. “Will you assist me or not?” he said. “Sure, my little cupcake of despair. Now, normally I charge $12.99 plus shipping and handling, but in this case I’ll cut you a deal.”

“You do not mean that, my sweet. I know you are lying.” Yes. Maybe. Crap! I don’t…“No".”