What do C.T. Adams, Cathy Clamp, Brad Sinor, Sue Sinor, Rachel Caine, and I have in common? We’re all participating in a round-robin story, via blogs, about a cosmetics-selling vampire named Rosie Hughes. So far, we have the following chapters:

Chapter 1 - C.T. Adams
Chapter 2 - Cathy Clamp (scroll down)
Chapter 3 - Brad Sinor
Chapter 4 - Sue Sinor
Chapter 5 - Rachel Caine

In the words of the fantabulous Rachel Caine:

In a nutshell, Rosie Hughes, vampire, has been forced to relocate and change her career, and now she’s a major distributor of Suzy Q cosmetics in Florida — a pink lady, living in the land that just about invented pastel.

Well, someone has to sell sunblock to the undead, now, don’t they? IT MIGHT AS WELL BE HER. As Rosie has opened up her markets (mainly through cheerfully illegal use of her vampire-based persuasion techniques), she’s made enemies, namely, the other Suzy Q reps. They’re taking it hard. And they’re not taking it lying down. In fact, they’ve hired the famed Max Hunter to put an end to Rosie’s reign of pink terror.

But, will even Max be able to stop the horror?

And now…Chapter 6: Enter the Slayer

The slayer—no, wrong, capital S, please—the Slayer poked her head out from behind the hedge and frowned at the pink stucco house. It was okay to frown; that showed how serious she was about the task set before her. Buffy frowned seriously at least three times every episode. And the other Scoobies practically scowled. When they weren’t cracking jokes, that is.

Huh.

Obviously, the Slayer needed a minion. No; minions were for bad guys. She needed…a sidekick. Yeah, okay. A sidekick. She’d put an add in Craigslist after she slew—slayed?—the vampire dwelling in the cheesy-looking pink house. Wanted: one sidekick. Witty banter required. Knowledge of martial arts and vampire lore a plus.

But first things first: there was an unholy creature of the night waiting to meet her demise at the hands of the Slayer.

The Slayer nodded grimly. Cue theme music. And maybe some atmospheric thunder…

She glanced upward, where the sun was shining brilliantly. Damn it. She sighed, but then she shed her disappointment in a bout of determination. So what if she didn’t have the right accompaniment? Duty called. She had a vampire to slay.

Except there were complications. The Slayer frowned again as she clutched the stake* close to her chest. She’d watched the large, angry-looking pink-clad woman enter the vampire’s house—no, not a house, duh, vampires live in lairs—the vampire’s lair nearly an hour ago. And the woman still hadn’t come out.

Maybe the vampire had killed her?

No, that was stupid. It was the middle of the day, for Christ’s sake. (Without any thunder.) The vampire would be in her coffin, taking a dirt nap. So what was the large woman doing in the house? Boinking the maid, maybe?

Boinking the vampire, maybe?

Ew. Lesbianism was cool, but necrophilia was just gross.

The Slayer considered other possibilities. The woman wore pink like a Pepto-Bismol factory had exploded all over her. Another cosmetics seller? Maybe. A rival? Yeah. And maybe the maid was in the vampire’s thrall, and she’d captured the rival makeup lady as a snack for her mistress.

The Slayer nodded. Of course the maid was in the vampire’s thrall; she worked for a freaking vampire. Duh.

Okay, the Slayer had a new mission: rescue the large pink-clad makeup lady from the bespelled maid’s clutches, all before the vampire awoke.

Now the Slayer pouted. She couldn’t stake the maid; that would be murder. She totally saw the Buffy “Bad Girls” episode a hundred times, so she knew the rules. Slayers don’t kill humans. Vampires, witches (the evil kind, not the good Willow kind), demons, corrupt mayors, cyborgs and insane gods? All kosher. Humans? Not so much.

She really needed a sidekick for times like this. Someone she could brainstorm with. Someone she could plan with. Someone she could—

A hand clamped around her mouth, and she was yanked backward.

The Slayer squealed, but the sound was muffled against a calloused palm. No, she couldn’t be captured! She was the spunky heroine, not the helpless damsel in distress! What would Buffy do?

Not get captured, genius.

Switching gears, she channeled Sarah Michelle (all hail) as a kick-ass Daphne in Scooby-Doo, a Daphne who had totally aced karate and refused to be a victim. Snarling, the Slayer thrashed and wiggled, all elbows and Sketchers.

“Ow! Watch the elbows!”

Hah! First blood—er, first bruise—went to the Slayer! Energized, she struck again, trying to go for the throat. And never mind that she had no leverage. She wasn’t going to be taken alive, or easily. She was a Slayer. She—

—was turned around and now was face-to-face with a holy-cats-GORGEOUS man, who totally had to be evil because no one human looked this good this close-up.

“Quit it,” he said, and oooh, didn’t he have the sexiest voice? All deep and growly and SNAP OUT OF IT, MARY-BETH!!!

“Leggo,” she said, trying to wiggle free, and wow, wasn’t he strong?

“Come on, kid, quit squirming.”

Kid??? The Slayer narrowed her eyes and decided that even though the man was gorgeous, he was also ancient. “What are you, thirty? Hands off, Grandpa.”

He quirked a smile. “That’s cute. Now get out of here. There’s a dangerous animal in that house, and I don’t want you to get bitten.”

“Wow, that’s not, like, too covert a reference to the vampire inside the pink house.”

The gorgeous guy blinked, exactly once, then scowled at her worthy of any Scoobie. “Why do you think there’s a vampire in there?”

She tapped her stake against her thigh. “My BFF, Janey, the president of the local branch of the Buffy Role Model Club? She reconned the place, from the moment the vampire moved in. It’s SOP whenever there’s a new face in town. And it was totally obvious the new homeowner’s an unliving player of Resident Evil.”

“Oh yeah?” The man snorted. “Did she skip church? Maybe freaked out when someone ordered pizza with extra garlic?”

The Slayer rolled her eyes, then pulled out a compact mirror from her back pocket and flipped it open. “No reflection, Grandpa. Janey told us.”

“Huh. So where’s Janey? Somewhere behind one of the fake flamingos on the lawn, ready to throw holy water balloons?”

“Janey’s not here.” The Slayer frowned as she put her mirror away. “She went all Stepford Teenager after she tried to slay the vampire. Now she’s selling the vampire’s makeup.”

The man let out a curse that the Slayer had never heard before. She memorized it for future reference. “So she’s in the vampire’s thrall?”

“Definitely. I mean, she’s even recruited most of our chapter into selling Suzy Q Cosmetics now.” She sighed, and for a moment, Mary-Beth was just a fourteen-year-old freshman at the local high school, not a Slayer with a higher calling.

“Okay, kid. I’ll take it from here. Go home.”

The Slayer glared a hole through him. “I don’t think so.”

“Run along, Skipper.”

“Fine,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Guess you can save the hostage, free the maid, and slay the vampire all on your own. See you, Grandpa.”

She took exactly two steps before the man said, “Hostage?”

The Slayer smiled innocently, with just a hint of smirk. Just like Sarah Michelle (all hail) in Buffy Season 1. “I’m not just some wannabe with a stake fetish. I’m a card-carrying Slayer,” she said proudly, and it was true: she had the Official Buffy Role Model Club Card.**

The man looked her up and down, pausing to meet her gaze. “You ever slay any vampires, kid?”

She deflated. “No.” Then she lifted her chin. “But that vampire mindsucked my BFF.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and an understanding passed between them.

“Fine,” he said, grunting. “You don’t get in my way, and you do what I tell you, no questions asked.”

She grinned. Looked like she didn’t have to put that ad in Craigslist after all. But maybe she’d refrain from telling the sexy (if old) vampire hunter that he was officially her sidekick. “Cool.”

“Now come on,” the man—no, the Sidekick said. “Let’s slay us a vampire.” He marched forward.

Biting back a sigh—God, he was going to have to seriously work on his witty banter—the Slayer followed, her stake at the ready.

Neither of them saw the driver, creeping up behind them.

*Official Buffy the Vampire Slayer Stake, bought with babysitting money

**Good for 10% discount off of most Army/Navy surplus stores