‘Look, vampire,’ and without hesitation, he pulled his hoodie off to reveal a line of throwing knives, all ornate, attached to a brace running from his shoulder to his hip, and, without seeming to think, or even look, he ripped one of the knives out and threw it. It spun through the air, quicker than the eye could follow, vampiric or not, and thudded into the side of the bus. Following it, Marco pulled it out of the window frame and showed the end to Alex, leaning over him, which would in itself intimidate a human, his sheer muscle and height seeming to smother their presence. The mashed remains of a fly were stuck to it.
Silently, Marco was maneuvering his other wrist, so that it was in a position to get the vampire’s heart. With an almost silent rasp of metal on metal, a blade, no more than three millimeters thick, shot from his wrist, the end coated in poison that his uncle assured him would kill anything. The point of the blade was precisely where the vampire’s heart was. One wrong move and Marco could thrust forward and end the abomination’s life.