“Bang...”

  Another ear-splitting crash reverberated through the room.

  The tiles beside the door shattered and rained down.

  Billy Jean shuddered, her voice quivering as she hollered,

  “Michael Joke, quit barfing and hoist me up, pronto!”

  Michael Joke's face was as white as a sheet from all the puking, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead.

  He gritted his teeth and grumbled,

  “Billy Jean, I must've owed you big-time in a past life.”

  He was dying to chuck the rotting arm he was clutching, but in the end, he bit the bullet and used a rope to lash Billy Jean's arm to her back.

  No easy feat for a germaphobe extraordinaire.

  With a graceful leap, he dropped down from the ventilation duct, his long legs absorbing the impact like a pro.

  “I'll boost you up first,” Michael Joke said.

  “Chop-chop,” Billy Jean urged.

  Michael Joke crouched slightly, his strong hands encircling Billy Jean's slender waist to heave her up.

  Suddenly, he paused and asked,

  “Is your waist gonna hold? Not gonna snap in half, is it?”

  He didn't want to see her guts spill out like a busted pi?ata.

  “Back in the day, you never seemed to care when we were getting cozy,”

  Billy Jean griped.

  Michael Joke's expression froze for a split second before he mumbled,

  “You used to be all soft and delicate. Now you're brittle and falling apart. It's like night and day.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,”

  Michael Joke replied, his chiseled arm muscles bulging as he hoisted Billy Jean skyward.

  Billy Jean grappled with climbing into the duct, one-armed and all.

  Just then,

  “Bang...”

  The door caved in, and a tidal wave of flesh-eating crows poured in.

  Billy Jean yelped anxiously,

  “Michael Joke, hustle up and get in here!”

  She wasn't about to let those pesky birds scarf down her hard-earned grub.

  Michael Joke whipped his hand, sending a sizzling bolt of lightning that bowled over the lead crows.

  He bought them a breather and scurried into the duct.

  The cover slammed shut, smooshing a few crows and sending the rest ricocheting off the metal.

  Michael Joke yanked out a dagger and jammed it into the lid to keep the crows at bay until they skedaddled.

  “Crawl along the duct,”

  Michael Joke said to Billy Jean.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Billy Jean nodded and wriggled forward, Michael Joke hot on her heels.

  The duct was as quiet as a tomb, save for the echoes of their scuffling.

  After a short spell, Billy Jean hit the brakes.

  “What gives?” Michael Joke asked.

  Billy Jean eyed the rotting flesh on her arm, which was nearly gone, and a pang of sadness hit her.

  “I'm done crawling. My arm's almost toast,” she said.

  Michael Joke's face clouded over.

  “Who cares about that rotten arm? Chuck it.”

  “I won't. Without it, I'll look like a monster,”

  Billy Jean dug in her heels.

  Michael Joke took a few deep breaths, knowing she was gonna drive him up the wall.

  “Are you climbing or what?” he asked.

  “Nope,” Billy Jean shot back.

  “Fine, if you won't budge, stay put and let the crows have you,”

  Michael Joke said, scooting past her and leaving her in the dust.

  He crawled a bit further and muttered under his breath,

  “This dame's a lost cause.”

  Billy Jean was sprawled out, comfy as could be, when she heard a gravelly voice.

  “Get up here,”

  Michael Joke said, storming back, his face so dark it looked like he could spit nails.

  Billy Jean's lips curled into a sly grin as she nimbly hopped onto his broad back.

  “No more of this,”

  Michael Joke said sternly, trudging forward with a resigned sigh.

  Billy Jean went limp as a noodle, her cold cheek pressed against his warm neck, inhaling that crisp, familiar scent.

  It was just like old times, those countless, steamy nights.

  “Michael Joke, why'd you mosey back to Ri-city?”

  Billy Jean asked him in her head.

  Michael Joke paused for a beat, then kept on trucking, not saying a word.

  “Is it 'cause you realized you couldn't shake me, no matter how many years passed, so you came back for me?”

  Billy Jean needled.

  Michael Joke snorted,

  “Billy Jean, after all these years, you haven't grown up a bit, but your hide sure has thickened.”

  Billy Jean let out a couple of “hehe” chuckles, unfazed.

  “Knock it off. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Michael Joke said.

  Billy Jean's smile froze.

  Michael Joke was getting downright ornery.

  “I can hear you,” he added offhandedly.

  Billy Jean snapped her eyes shut and played dead on his back.

  Michael Joke huffed in exasperation and carried the princess through the duct.

  A few minutes later, they slipped out of the bar, quiet as mice.

  As for who came out on top between the crows and the vampires in the bar, they'd never know.

  Back at the hotel, Michael Joke untied Billy Jean's severed arm, torn between dumping it and just letting it be.

  “This... maybe... just forget it. I'll rustle up the best prosthetic for you tomorrow. Way better than that stinky hand,” he suggested.

  "You can have a fake one. I'm not having it."

  Billy Jean snatched her arm back and cradled it like a baby.

  "It's been with me for over twenty years. I'll never ditch it."

  Yue...

  Billy Jean gagged and surreptitiously wiped her hand, which had touched the rotting flesh, on her clothes.

  Michael Joke: !

  His disgust was written all over his face.

  Was this her idea of loyalty?

  Watching Billy Jean whip out a needle and thread and start roughly sewing her arm back on, Michael Joke was left speechless.

  “What the heck are you doing?” he asked.

  "Can't you see? Are you blind?"

  “Sewing it up won't cut it. The nerves are shot. It'll just be a dead weight,” he said.

  "So what? I've done it before. When my head got lopped off, I picked it up and sewed it back on, and now it's good as new."

  Billy Jean did a 360-degree head spin, which was both freaky and spine-chilling.

  Michael Joke shuddered at Billy Jean's macabre move.

  A scaredy-cat would've passed out cold.

  "Cool, right?"

  Billy Jean's lips curled into a devilish smile.

  Michael Joke couldn't stomach it and said,

  “I'm gonna hit the showers.”

  "Didn't you just shower tonight?"

  "I'm filthy."

  Michael Joke replied curtly before ducking into the bathroom.

  "Germaphobe."

  Billy Jean muttered to herself.

  When Michael Joke emerged from the bathroom an hour later, Billy Jean had just finished sewing her arm back on.

  It hung there, limp as a wet rag.

  Billy Jean fished a thermos out of her bag, popped the lid, and the smell of blood wafted out.

  “What's that?”

  Michael Joke asked, wrinkling his nose.

  "Blood."

  Billy Jean didn't bat an eye.

  After all, he knew she was a vampire.

  Michael Joke didn't press the issue, but his brow stayed furrowed.

  He watched as Billy Jean pulled out a red bag and dumped some red dates, wolfberry, and Codonopsis pilosula into the thermos.

  “What are you doing now?” he asked.

  "Taking care of myself! Don't you know about wellness?"

  Michael Joke:...

  He thought this had to be the funniest thing he'd ever heard—a rotting vampire preaching wellness.

  Billy Jean shook the thermos, then pried it open and chugged it down,

  “glug glug”.

  Then, she “whoosh, whoosh...” spat out the goodies from her mouth.

  Red dates, wolfberry, and Codonopsis pilosula flew out one by one.

  Michael Joke stared at Billy Jean's shenanigans, his face a mask of disgust.

  “What the heck are you doing?”

  "vampires don't eat this stuff."

  “But you said it was for wellness,” he said.

  "Yes! Wellness, that's right!"

  “So you just threw these in to give the wolfberry, red dates, and codonopsis a bath?”

  "Bath? No, no! It's for wellness!"

  Billy Jean tilted her head, puzzled.

  Michael Joke pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing.

  It was his mistake to try to have a sane conversation with a vampire.

  At that moment, Michael Joke saw the wound on Billy Jean's newly sewn arm start to heal.

  In a few blinks, the arm that had been as limp as a dishrag was lifting up.