ONE

 

Arissa got up on the wrong side of the bed. She’d turned herself around during the night, ending up with her head where her feet would normally be, and when the alarm went off she tried to jump out of bed and slammed into the wall instead.

Once her nose stopped bleeding and her eyes uncrossed, she managed to get washed and dressed without further self-inflicted pain. She even got to school in one piece and was beginning to think her morning screw-up was no more than a fluke. But then she went to computer class and discovered her fingers had somehow developed little minds of their own, and nearly everything she typed had to be deleted and re-typed, then re-re-typed, several times over. By the time she managed to get one coherent sentence done without errors, she was ready to stab the screen with her pen. Knowing this could cause her sudden demise by electrocution, however, she opted for the ever-popular key-slam.

“Miss Martin, kindly stop banging on those keys. If you break them, you buy the school a new keyboard.”

Glaring up at Mrs. Crowther, a teacher she liked on any other day, Arissa grumped an apology. Today, she didn’t like anyone. After her fourth failed attempt to type “and,” she would have felt hateful toward angels had any happened to cross her path.

So it came as no surprise that on the way home, her car stalled. Having decided that the way her luck was going, the highway could be a greater hazard to her health than normal, she had taken a back road. But because of the way her luck was going, she got it wrong.

After the twenty-third attempt to restart her old vehicle, she gave up, deciding to wait a while and give it a chance to recover from whatever had made it conk out in the first place. Calling for help wasn’t an option, since her phone had run out of charge halfway through her fourth class, and she’d forgotten to bring the car-charger.

Only one other car had come by, but the driver had passed her at dust-kicking speed, not even turning to look at her while zooming by. Beyond that brief encounter with humanity, Arissa felt as if she may as well have been alone on the planet.

On her left, a field stretched out flat until the ground rose into a small hill topped with a line of wooden fencing. To her right where she’d rolled onto the sandy shoulder was a forest. She considered walking across the field to see what was beyond the hill, figuring she could call her road-service company from the home of the fence’s owner. But that hill looked far away, and the forest looked spooky now that she wasn’t driving past it, so she waited a bit longer.

As the sky darkened, a full moon topping the horizon, Arissa tried starting the car again, thinking she’d given the stupid engine enough time to cool down, if that was what it needed. Teasing, the engine almost turned over but then, with the cruelty of an Inquisition torturer, stopped once more.

“Crap!” She got out, slamming the door behind her and wondering if pelting it with dirt and small stones would scare it into functioning. She’d yanked on the hood release, but when she went to the front of the car and tried lifting it, the latch got caught on something and the hood refused to open.

Arissa hated “chick-flicks,” refused to cry at any kind of movie unless her date was stepping on her foot by accident, and in general was good at toughing out difficult situations on her own without getting weepy. Angry, yeah. Furious, sometimes. But the whole damsel-in-distress thing revolted her. So it was a testimony to how frustrated and thoroughly defeated she felt that she crossed her arms over the hood, put her head down on them, and sobbed.

The immediacy of her boo-hooing caused her to ignore another sound that should have alarmed her far more than her vehicular predicament: growling. Distant at first, but growing closer by the second. Did Arissa sense the impending danger? Nope. The flood-gates had been opened, and she was too tired to try closing them yet. Not until she got knocked to the ground by something gigantic, furry, and incredibly stinky did she conclude something was wrong. She fell sideways onto her right arm, which under the best of circumstances wasn’t a great thing, and among the sudden chaos of thoughts assaulting her was one that said, “Er, I think you just broke your arm.”

Before that could process itself into a scream of pain, and before the severity of her situation could induce a scream of fear, something bit deeply into her left shoulder, eliciting a scream of agony. She kicked upward with her left, free foot and made contact with soft flesh. It was the first thing she’d gotten right all day.

The creature must have been male, because as soon as the toe of her shoe found its mark, the smelly whatever-it-was released her shoulder and gave a shriek that almost sounded human. A moment later, it was gone.

Interesting.

She rolled the rest of the way onto her back, wondering how she was going to get up. Both arms were useless, she’d pulled a muscle in her groin mid-kick, and didn’t want to find out how much more pain she could experience.

“I think I’m in shock, too,” she whispered. “Maybe I’ll die here.”

“Maybe you will.”

She blinked. Wonderful. Now she was hearing voices. “Yep, I’ve slipped a gear. Guess I’ll just wait until I’ve finished bleeding to death. Then I can… die? Great. Ouch. Ow….” The serotonin or whatever it was that keep humans from feeling the worst of an injury, went off to read a book or maybe do some gardening, because the dull ache turned nasty and sharp. “Aw, hell, ow!”

“Poor little girl,” said the voice, sounding closer.

“You got that right. This really hurts!” A large tear rolled out of one eye and down to her ear. It tickled, and she tried to raise her hand to wipe away the moisture, but her nerve endings had other ideas. “OWWWW!”

“I do believe you’ve broken something.”

“Gee, are you always this observant?” she managed through clenched teeth.

“Not always.” And then the source of the voice showed itself.

She screamed.

 

*****

 

What a lovely dream she was having! A handsome man held her close as he bent his head toward her throat. Feeling a bit floaty, she waited for his kiss, noting that he had attractive, unkempt hair, dark eyes that glittered in a most intriguing way, a beautiful, sculpted mouth, strong white teeth with elongated canines….

A second later, those canines sank into the side of her neck, and she could feel her life draining away as the man began to drink. It didn’t hurt, but was disconcerting.

Would you look at that… a vampire. I’m being killed by a –

“Damn it!” The creature pulled back, lowered her to the ground, and spat out a mouthful of her blood. “What the hell!”

Astonishment came at her from three directions – one, that he had dropped her with care as if not wishing to cause her further pain or harm; two, that he didn’t like how her blood tasted; and three, that it had taken her this long to realize she wasn’t dreaming. As soon as that third version of the aforementioned astonishment kicked in, she used a bad word. There wasn’t a whole lot else she could do, between one arm being broken, the other badly injured, and a pulled muscle that would keep her from running even had she been able to stand up. Add a pissed-off vampire to the mix and her use of foul language to cope made perfect sense.

The man finished retching and doing other gross things, and spun back around to glare down at her. “Why were you lying on the ground?”

“Seriously? You didn’t see what happened?”

“No, I didn’t. I just assumed you’d tripped or something and cut your shoulder open. I could smell your blood from about a mile inside the forest, and was drawn to you.”

“You’re an idiot. Ow. It’s starting to hurt again.”

“Did something bite you?”

“Besides you, you mean? Yeah, genius. I was standing in front of my useless car because the engine stalled and I couldn’t get the hood open, when something knocked me down and took a chunk out of my shoulder. I kicked it in what I hope was the most sensitive spot possible and it ran off. Then you showed up and decided I was on the menu, too, creep. Ow.”

“Be careful, little human - ”

“Oh, shut up. What can you possibly do worse to me at this point? Kill me? Fine. Go ahead.” She turned her head to expose her already punctured throat.

“You must have been attacked by a werewolf. Thank goodness I didn’t swallow.”

“Is that like ‘I didn’t inhale’?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Look, either help me, kill me, or get lost. I am so not in the mood for you right now. Or ever, come to think of it…” She groaned in pain and closed her eyes.

He slipped an arm under her shoulders, raising her from the ground, and she concluded that the movie was about to start. The one about her life. That final review of all she’d done, both good and bad, before her grand exit from the world. Well, that didn’t happen. What happened was his hand pulling her mouth open, the feel of something being thrust in – his wrist, she thought – and the metallic wetness of blood pouring past her lips and down her esophagus.

“Drink. That’s right. Good girl. The pain should start going away soon. Ah, yes. A little more. Good, good.”

He seemed to be enjoying this. She, on the other hand, was totally grossed out. Still, he was right about the pain. As disgusting as the whole drinking blood thing was, she felt herself not only being freed from the pain of her injury and wounds, but healing. How bizarre. And then the strangest thing of all happened. Her heart slowed down almost to a complete halt, her need for air changing to a need for blood, and she blacked out.

TWO

 

 

The apartment looked the same as it had when Arissa left that morning: same walls, same furniture, same mess. Yet something was off. She had been altered in ways that would probably take her a long time to comprehend, which wouldn’t have bothered her had it been a normal sort of change. Normal, that is, according to legend standards. But no, Arissa had never done things “normally” in her whole life.

For instance, the way she learned to ride a bicycle. Her father had removed the training wheels but said that since she’d been riding with them both raised already, and was thus technically riding without them, he left her to figure out the rest. And she did, except that after falling over eight or nine times, the handlebars had been knocked crooked, and she ended up riding the bike that way. When her father noticed this, he straightened them, and she’d promptly ridden into a bush. Never did relearn the proper way, either, so the handlebars had of necessity been misaligned again and she had ridden it with ease after that.

Cake. Did she eat cake like a normal person? Sure, if eating the cake part while leaving both the filling and the frosting in perfect, untouched condition so that it looked like someone had frosted an invisible cake when she was done could be called “normal.” The frosting would get eaten afterward, but always the filling first, then the side part, and finally the top. It was a bizarre habit, and she didn’t care one bit who thought so.

Ah, corn-on-the-cob. When she was finished eating it, the ear had been neatly and perfectly picked clean, each kernel removed by her using her teeth like a hoe so that their rows were devoid of even a shred of kernelness. Etcetera.

So it made sense that after the dual monster attack – neither of which she should have survived in the first place – she had become neither a vampire, nor a werewolf.

Several minutes after she’d woken up, the man who called himself Vlad (which she was sure he’d made up) told her that every once in a while a human would suffer a double attack like she had, and if that person was kept alive by being turned, the result was a hybrid. Not a cool one like the dude in “Underworld,” but a living creature who only became a vampire on nights of the full moon. The rest of the time, he or she was full-on human but with an unusually keen sense of smell, inhuman speed, and ridiculous strength. “You, my dear,” he’d declared, “are a werepire.”

“A what?” She’d given him a look of utter disbelief and outrage, feeling that once again fate had kicked her in the head and told her it was a just a sinus infection. “Awesome,” she’d said, her sarcasm in high gear. “I’m only a part-time undead creature. All I need now is for a zombie to come by and bite me in the ass, and I’ll have achieved the trifecta of legendary monsterhood – look out, folks! It’s Arissa, the Zombie Werepire! Ahhh!...Crap.”

For some reason, Vlad was pressing his lips together, a small snort escaping. “Come now, my dear,” he’d said with an annoying use of condescending pronouns, “it isn’t all that bad. You can go out in the daylight, you won’t turn into a wolf, but you’ll enjoy the benefits of an insanely long life, increased strength and speed, and when the moon is full, you’ll be able to exact revenge on your enemies while enjoying a liquid supper.”

She’d stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then said, “Is the car fixed?” When she’d first come to, she was lying on the other side of the road and could see his tall, slender form bent over the engine. He’d managed to get the hood latch working, and was doing whatever it was one did to get an engine started, if one knew about car motors. A vampire mechanic? Sheesh.

He told her it was, so she’d gotten back in, preparing to leave. “Oh, yeah, Vlad,” she’d added, making sure the way she’d emphasized his name made it clear she didn’t believe it was his name at all – probably Brad, or maybe Poindexter – “how many of you guys are around?”

“Lots,” he told her with a grin big enough to allow moonlight to glint off one of his fangs. “But see, that’s another advantage you now have, my dear. None of us can harm you. You’re a protected species.”

“Am I, really… Can I have children?”

“Why, yes. If you wish.”

“Not with you, of course. But you can’t father kids anyway, right?”

“Sad but true.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she murmured. Louder, she’d added, “Good. Thanks for fixing the car and for saving my life, I think. And stop calling me ‘my dear.’ I’m not.” She’d closed the door, turned the key, and to her surprise, the engine had started right up. Without another glance in the vampire’s direction, she’d continued her journey home.

Now, standing in the doorway of her apartment and hoping no one had to invite her in before she could cross the threshold, she gazed around at the living room and wondered what didn’t feel right. An experimental toe past the doorframe assured her that the rest of her body could follow without some invisible force shunting her back out into the hall. Relieved, she went in and closed the door.

The sun was up by that time, so she didn’t bother switching on the lights. Not that this made things look any less odd. Was it in fact because she had been so dramatically altered, that her piles of magazines, unwashed cups and plates on the tables, and the occasional undergarment seemed out of place? Okay, she admitted, it was all out of place and needed to get put away, but there was more to it than the obvious. She swept the room with a more critical gaze.

Sofa cushions in place… nope, that wasn’t it. Chairs where she’d left them, tables every bit as dusty and trash-covered… not that, either. Ah. Maybe it was the envelope tacked to the wall leading to her bedroom that she knew darned well she hadn’t put there.

Arissa went to it, noticing as she got closer that the envelope had that fancy onionskin look – fragile, translucent, a mundane red pushpin keeping it in place. Across the font, her name had been written in thin, spidery script.

“Huh. Weird.” Yeah, Riss, like this envelope is unique that way. Nothing else is weird today, is it (she wasn’t asking). Sticking the pin back into the small hole it had made in her wall, she took the envelope to the sofa, shoved aside a pile of towels she’d been planning to fold after school, and sat. The envelope made a satisfying crackle when she pried it open. Inside was a letter on the same paper, and although it was folded, she could see it was covered on both sides by the filigree writing.

“Dear Arissa Martin,” it began. “Welcome to the family.”

She gave the page a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me?! What the hell is this? The Undead Welcome Wagon? And when did anyone have time to find out what happened to me, write this, and get into my apartment with it before I even got home? Incredible!” She continued reading.

“Few people are aware not only that we exist, but that we have a sophisticated and complex society. This is important for you to know. Vampires have evolved over the centuries, and these days we tend to be more closely-knit as a species. Yes, many would consider us a sub-species, but we have more pride in ourselves than we used to and refuse to accept being degraded like that. We are also close with our werewolf brethren. I call them that because both species are in a category separate and unique from the human race. We help each other, keep our identities a careful secret, and often socialize.

“Through the years, an occasional faux-pas occurs. A vampire will snack on a human, for instance, get distracted and leave for a time, during which a werewolf – unaware that this particular human was already being fed upon – will pause for a nibble. Or the reverse will be true, as occurred in your case. A werewolf was about to make you his main course, but apparently you stopped him after only one bite. Vlad, unaware that your body had been claimed, decided to stop for a quick drink. Because of the nature of both our types, we cannot ingest blood that has been injected with chemicals from each other, you see. So when this happens, we do the only moral thing we can – we mingle the toxins from both species to keep the human somewhat alive, and the result is a werepire. Invariably, the werepire will have what we consider the perfect combination of traits from both species, which I believe Vlad outlined for you.

“Bottom line, dear Arissa, is that you are one of our ‘protected’ members now. You’re special, my dear, and we will do everything we can to help you adjust to your new life, teach you how to feed during the full moon, and keep you safe throughout the remainder of your existence.

“We will be having a meeting of all werepires this Thursday night, and recommend that you come along so you can meet the others like you, and as many members of our community as can attend. You will be contacted within the next few days with the time and place.

“I look forward to seeing you then.

 

“In Blood and In Honor,

Kyria Scarlatis, VP”

 

“Unreal.” She turned the envelope upside down and shook it, her sense of sarcasm making a comeback. “Where are the brochures?” She tossed the letter onto the pile of towels and got up. “Gee, I wonder if they go on moonlight cruises, too. Holy sh – ”

The house phone rang, reminding her that she needed to recharge her cell. “Now what?” she grumbled, going into the kitchen to grab the wireless handset from its cradle on the side of her fax-copier. “Hello.”

“Wow, you sound friendly today.”

Terrific – it’s Mom. “Sorry.”

“I’ve been calling your cell phone for hours, honey. Where have you been?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. My car stalled on the way home from school and my cell ran out of charge.”

“Oh, no! Did you have to have it towed?”

“The cell phone?”

“Very funny, Riss.”

“Right. No, a, um, a man stopped and got the engine started again.” Before her mother could ask any more questions, like where had she been when the car died or who the guy was, or anything else she didn’t feel like answering, she added, “I think I’m going to cut back on my classes so I can get a second job and buy myself a new car. What do you think?”

“I think you’re changing the subject. Never mind – listen, I’d like you to come with us to dinner Thursday night. It’s your cousin Trina’s birthday and we’re going to meet her and her parents at Scales and Feathers.”

Great. Fish and chicken with cousin I’m So Much Prettier Than Everyone Else And Way Smarter Than You. Maybe I can take her with me to meet my new “family.” They’d have her for dinner, all right. “Sorry, mom. Can’t. I have… well, it’s a real important project that has everything to do with me getting through this semester. I’m meeting with the others who are part of it, and if I don’t show up, they won’t be able to get things started and that really wouldn’t be fair. Besides, Trina can always put a mirror on the chair I’d be sitting in; that’ll give her someone intelligent enough to talk to and pretty enough to look at. Just tell her it’s my present to her.” Mom’s gonna flip, Mom’s gonna flip, Mom’s g-

“Arissa Martin! What a horrible thing to say!”

Mom flipped. “Sorry. But for real, I can’t miss this meeting.”

Mrs. Martin heaved a sigh loud enough to be heard in the next room. “Fine. Do what you have to do, Arissa. I understand.”

“I doubt that – you’re still calling me ‘Arissa’.” Where was all this nonchalant boldness coming from? Oh, right. The bite on her neck and the gouge in her shoulder. Although the wounds were healing quickly, the venom they’d contained was not only affecting her physical being, but seemed to be affecting her emotions as well. Maybe her new condition wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Normally, she’d be reduced to defensive burbling by her mother’s disapproval. This time, she didn’t give a flip what the woman thought. “Look, I can’t go. Sorry. Give cousin Trina a hug and wish her a happy birthday for me, okay?”

“Arissa, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Really? Who do I sound like, then? Come on, Mom, don’t be silly. Anyway, I’m exhausted – I have got to go now and get some stuff done.” There. That sounded reasonable, she thought.

“You might want to start with cleaning your apartment. We both know you aren’t exactly Martha Stewart.”

“Nor would I want to be,” the girl shot back. “Talk to you later, Mom.” She hung up and switched off the phone. “All right! Now what? Ah. That crazy letter.”

She returned to the sofa and read it over. When she got to the end, she stared at the closing. In blood and honor? What the heck did that mean, anyway? While simple on the surface, she had a feeling something more sinister lay behind that phrase. And what was up with the corny names? Kyria was okay, probably Greek, but the Scarlatis surname was way too blood-related to be the woman’s real one. And what was she? A vice president? Of what? The Neck-Biters Association of America? Wait, no. The NBAA was something sports-related, she was sure. She was also sure that its initials stood for words that had something to do with sports, not vampires. Which brought her back to this Kyria Scarlatis person’s honorarium, or whatever it was called. Title? VP. Hmm.

She went into the bathroom to check a few things and discovered that while she hadn’t sprouted fangs or claws, she also had no trace of the werewolf bite on her shoulder. She stopped staring at her teeth and shoulder long enough to realize something was different about her eyes, too. What the heck? They weren’t glowing or anything, and hadn’t turned red or brown. Still blue but different. Maybe – her pupils! They weren’t elongated like a cat’s, or vertical like a sheep’s, but oval. Not too dramatic a change, but enough to make people wonder if they happened to stare into her eyes for more than a second. Although why anyone would do that was beyond her.

She yawned and realized that aside from the minutes when she’d been unconscious, she hadn’t slept. There were no classes today, but she did have to go to work. Grateful that she wasn’t due in until three in the afternoon, she changed into a comfortable set of cotton sweats and went to bed. Before laying down, though, and right after setting her alarm for two-fifteen, she pulled her bed further away from the wall, decided it was still too close, and relocated it to the middle of the room.

No more getting up on the wrong side of the bed for her. Nope. Lord knew what kind of weirdo she might get turned into the next time!

THREE

 

 

Thursday. Arissa did her usual morning spazz when the alarm when off, but forced herself to relax and get out of bed with studied composure. The bed was still in the middle of the room, and would remain there. Rubber doorstoppers had been shoved under the legs from the sides in case she sleepwalked in the middle of the night and tried to push it back.

For the past few days her mother had been trying to contact her, but she’d turned her ringer off “by accident,” leaving apology texts instead of returning the calls. In turn, her mother had managed a few texts of her own, none of them pleasant.

Arissa had only one class on Thursdays, so after her shower she gathered her things and rushed out the door, already planning what she was going to do afterward. Like figure out what to wear to the meeting, for one. And her hair – not much she could do there.

A hand-written note had been left on her kitchen table some time during the night Tuesday, giving her the time and place for the meeting, but no indication that the one who had left it felt at all guilty about breaking into her apartment. After she stopped fuming about that, she decided to start a list of question for these people... creatures... whatever. Right at the top of that list was, "What makes you think you have the right to come and go in my home any damn time you please?" Yeah, the phrasing was rude, but so was breaking into her apartment uninvited. Which brought her to the next question: "Don't you guys need to be invited in first?"

Well, that would have to wait, she told herself. At the moment, she needed to get to school for her Business Statistics class. While Arissa sucked at math in general, she enjoyed this course. The idea of probabilities fascinated her. As she steered through traffic, she was thinking about this, and had to laugh. What was the probability that she would have been turned into a werepire? Heck, what were the odds that such things even existed? Ha!

Pulling into the parking lot, she began the irritating task of finding an open spot that wasn't close to the equator. "What am I going to wear tonight?" she asked aloud, honking at someone backing out of a space and nearly whacking into her right front fender. "Doofus... probably wasn't looking. But huh. The meeting. Should I dress up or - ah! A spot!" She sped up and managed to swerve into the empty parking space without hitting the cars flanking it. "Right! Okay, then! Where was I? Hmm. Maybe it'll be casual. Does it even matter?"

Someone walked past the car parked in front of Arissa's and gave her frown. She couldn't understand why, but then realized she'd been talking to herself. "Crap. Maybe they'll think I'm on a Bluetooth or something.” She got out of the car and headed for the building where her class was held, her thoughts returning to the problem of what would be appropriate to wear that evening. Did it matter? Was there a whole respect thing to worry about? If she looked like a slob would they bite her on principal? Maybe not; she was “protected,” whatever that meant, which was another question on her ever-growing list.

When class ended, she left in a hurry, wanting to give herself enough time to go to the store for anything she might need (like mascara - her current tube was about empty), choose an outfit, take a shower, and get dressed. Halfway between the side door of the school and her car, someone shouted her name. Annoyed, she slowed and looked over her shoulder.

A young man she recognized from another of her classes was jogging toward her, waving. Now what? She stopped and turned toward him. Nice-looking in a gothic way, she concluded; considering her condition, Arissa thought it appropriate that he'd want to talk to her, which made no sense, but not much else was making sense lately, so whatever.

“Riss, hey, sorry to bother you.” He sounded out of breath as he stomped to a halt beside her.

“What’s up…um, Leander, right?” What kind of name was that, anyway? And why was he calling her by her nickname when he didn’t even know her?

“Yeah. Listen, I – how do you know my name?” He raised both brows.

“Same way you know mine, I’d assume.” Put your brows down, buster. “We’re in some class together, but I can’t remember which one.”

“We are?”

That made her more suspicious. “Yes. We are. If you didn’t know that, how did you know my name?”

“Oh. Sorry.” He took a deep breath, blushed, and smiled.

This gave him dimples, and suddenly she didn’t care how he knew her name – until he spoke again.

“Right. I was wondering… will you be at the meeting tonight?”

Arissa was thunderstruck. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You… okay, since you’re standing out here in the sunlight, I assume you’re a - ” she lowered her voice - “a werepire?”

“Like you. Double attack victim, all that.”

“When did this happen?” Not that this mattered, either. He was still cute and nice, which irritated the snot out of her because she sensed within herself a growing interest in him.

He looked away, brows together, lips pursed. Then, with a quick nod, he faced her again. “Four hundred and thirty-six years ago.”

Maybe she’d slammed into that wall again after all, and was in reality lying on the floor of her bedroom, concussed and on the verge of vegetablehood. “Say what?”

“I was twenty-three at the time. Listen, I admit I felt sorry for you, that you’d been attacked and all that, but I also thought it might be cool to have a schoolmate who was like me, so I wanted to at least introduce myself before the meeting. There aren’t a whole lot of us, as you might imagine.”

“To be honest, I hadn’t been imagining a whole lot about any of it since Monday, being busy coping with the insanity of being bitten and whatnot.” She took a step closer and checked his pupils. Yup. Oval. Dang. He also smelled really good. She stepped back again. “To answer your question, yes. I was planning to be there. Not so much because of all the marvelous info I’m sure you’re all going to give me, but mostly to find out who the hell keeps breaking into my apartment and leaving notes.”

He gulped.

She knew.

He apologized, blushing.

She fell in love.

What a mess.

 

*****

 

That evening, after putting up with her phone’s GPS vapid, tinny little voice, she pulled in where it told her to, parked, got out, looked from the address on the note to the building, back at the note, then at the building again. “Really? Really? A church?” Maybe this one didn’t use holy water. Or crucifixes. Or maybe vampires weren’t affected by that stuff after all. “Incredible.”

On time for once, she checked for tow-away-zone signs and fire hydrants – getting a ticket wasn’t on her Got To Have It list – and finding none, went through the iron gates between two granite pillars. An older building than the other structures in this part of town, the church was surrounded by spiked fencing, its slate walkway smoothed by the passage of thousands of feet over the decades. She’d been told to go to the door on the right side of the building, so she followed the path around that way, and entered as instructed.

The aroma of incense, the scent-identifier of every church Arissa had ever entered, flew up her nostrils and made her sneeze. She hated incense, especially the church kind. Pulling a tissue from her purse, she sneezed several more times, blew her nose, and began to feel light-headed. The sound of her allergic reaction echoed up the stairwell in which she’d found herself, and a moment later, a figure appeared at the top step. Vlad.

“Ah, there you are, my dear.”

“I thought I asked you dot to call me that,” she said, nasal and furious.

“Oh, yes. My apologies. Please – join me, will you?”

She rolled her eyes and went up the stairs. At the top, she stared into his. The pupils were normal. The irises were not. They glittered. “Dow what?”

“This way, m- I mean, Arissa.” He waved her forward and she walked with him to a corridor leading away from the main vestibule, and which ran alongside the sanctuary. As they walked, she could hear the sound of voices, a crescendo of murmuring that exploded into conversations when he opened one of the doors. “Here we are.”

“Dever would have guessed,” she grumped under her breath.

All conversations ceased as soon as she and her escort entered the spacious room. Chairs lined three of the walls, leaving the polished wooden floor open in the center. People of all heights, colors and ages had filled this middle area, only a few sitting, all of them holding what looked like glasses of red wine. As she watched two of the occupants sip at their drinks, she noticed that while the contents of one glass left no coating after being downed, the other did. That one looked viscous, and she had no doubt it was blood. Was the other person not a vampire? Or maybe a vampire who happened to enjoy wine? She’d have to ask about that later.

A woman in a magnificent embroidered gold and black vest over a satin, cream-colored blouse with balloon sleeves, a knee-length black satin sheath skirt and blood red heels approached. Her hair was amber blonde, her face pale, her lovely features delicate. She, too, had those glittery irises that seemed more iridescent than any definable color. When she was close enough, she extended both arms, and before Arissa could react, pulled her into a firm hug.

“Welcome, dear Arissa. I am so pleased you chose to come.”

“Thanks,” she replied as soon as the woman released her. “Are you Kyria Scarlatis?”

“Yes, I am. Kyria Scarlatis, Vampire Priestess and current Queen of the Animated Dead.”

Ah, that’s what the “VP” thing meant! But – “Queen of the what?”

“Oh, now, don’t let the name put you off, darling. Those of us who are full vampires are, in fact, quite dead. Still, we walk the earth, as well as think, talk, feel, feed. That makes us ‘animated,’ you see.” She put an arm around Arissa’s shoulders, leading her toward the front of the room, “You, on the other hand, are almost dead, yet very much alive. You are the closest we’ll ever have to children, because unlike us, you shall continue to age. Slowly, to be sure, but age nonetheless.”

They’d reached the front by this time; Kyria raised both arms and once again the quiet conversing, which had resumed while Arissa was being hugged, stopped. She walked behind Arissa and put both hands on her shoulders. “Everyone, I am pleased and honored to introduce to you the latest member of our werepire ranks. This is Arissa Martin, a college student at City University. She’s studying business, and is doing rather well, from what I’ve been able to learn. We can all be very proud of the child, and should assure her that we’ll do all we can to help her on her journey through life.”

Polite applause followed this introduction.

“You may well be wondering, my dear, what is to come next,” Kyria continued, her powerful aura convincing Arissa that it would be a bad idea to demand that this woman also stop calling her that. “Well, first, we have chosen a mentor for you. This person will answer questions as they arise, help you when you get upset or confused about your new life, and fill you in on the history of our people. But before all that, please – I’m sure you have many, many questions, and that’s why we’ve met here tonight: to answer them for you.” She gave Arissa’s shoulders a quick squeeze, and with a charming smile stepped aside, leaving the girl standing alone and exposed, feeling like the Emperor when he realized he’d been duped by his tailors.

“Um, yeah. Okay. So… well, here’s one. You guys have had someone leave notes for me in my apartment. Don’t you need to be invited in before entering a person’s home?” At least she was no longer nasal.

A slender girl stepped forward – in fact, everyone in the room was slender, and Arissa wondered if there was such a thing as an obese vampire. Or a chubby werewolf?

“Hello, Arissa,” said the girl, her eyes glittering at her. “You’re correct, of course. We do have to be invited in, but not into each other’s homes. We have free access to those because we are kindred.”

Kindred. Great word. “I see. How many of you are werewolves?”

Almost half of those present raised their hands, one or two standing close enough that she could see their eyes didn’t glitter. Instead, they all had silvery-grey irises and slightly oval pupils. Interesting. “Okay! So how many are werepires?” Now she was beginning to feel like a stand-up comic in Las Vegas – as in, “What a great crowd we have tonight! So how many of you are from Ohio?… ”

Four hands shot up, and she peered into the crowd to see what their owners looked like. All but two were too far away, and one of those was hidden behind a hairdo. The werepire who was close enough to see was Leander.

“Wow,” she said, surprised. “Not many.”

“No, which is why you’re so special,” said a man standing beside her schoolmate.

“I see.”

After that, she asked the remainder of her questions and found out that most vampires attended church, that holy water didn’t bother them one bit, crucifixes meant nothing other than what they were supposed to mean, and that they could have sex but not children of their own. They also were sensitive to daylight, but didn’t burn to a crisp in it. Sun poisoning – or their non-fatal version of it – was the worst that could happen, but it was horribly uncomfortable while it lasted (for about an hour after exposure). Sunblock didn’t help much, so they tended to stay indoors as much as possible during the day. And no, they didn’t glitter. Only their eyes did, which had more to do with them being dead than anything else.

She also learned that while werewolves had it worse in some ways, since they couldn’t control the change under the full moon’s light, they didn’t get affected by it when it was cloudy, raining, snowing, or if they lived in Los Angeles (the smog usually blocked the moonlight altogether). But if they did change, they were still able to choose how, what, and sometimes who, they would eat. In essence, they turned into highly intelligent beasts, able to retain their human minds while being somewhat overwhelmed by the need for raw meat.

Curious to know if there were any other creatures around that had erroneously been attributed to myth and legend, she asked about zombies. The room grew quiet, its occupants giving each other oblique stares and avoiding Arissa’s gaze altogether.

“Okay, now you’re being flat-out creepy,” she said, crossing her arms. “What don’t you want to tell me?”

“It – it has to do with, with reproduction,” a slightly older woman said, looking at the floor and clearing her throat.

“You’ve lost me. What are you talking about?”

Vlad came forward, spreading his hands in a what-can-I-say gesture. “It’s a rather unfortunate side-effect, you see.”

“No, I don’t see. A side-effect of what?”

“Having children.”

“But you all said you couldn’t have children!”

“Not us, Arissa, you. Werepires. If you have children with each other, they seem normal for the first twenty or so years, but if they have sex with a normal human, the human mates become zombies.”

She pursed her lips, doing her best to stay calm. “And if we have children with regular humans?”

“They’re born with fangs and claws, but are extraordinarily beautiful otherwise. They also have normal human appetites but live about three times as long as humans do. Many of them have their fangs filed down and keep their claws trimmed so no one notices. Oh, and they almost always have silver eyes with oval pupils, and white hair. People often mistake them for albinos.”

Is that all? Nothing unusual there! “Ah. So I guess we werepires keep the contraceptive manufacturers in business, eh?” She wasn’t trying to be funny. Carefully enraged, for sure.

“Heh, yes, well, no one encourages pregnancy among your kind.”

She’d heard enough. “Okay. Where’s this mentor person you’ve assigned to me?”

“You’ve already met him,” said Kyria. “And no, it isn’t Leander. He’s too young, for one thing.”

“Of course! Only four hundred or so. Yep. A real baby.”

“Among your kind, that is young.”

“Uh-huh. So… ack! Hold it! You mean to tell me – I need to sit down.” And she did. Right there on the floor.

Leander had conveyed two important facts that day at school, yet for some reason neither had registered, or perhaps she’d purposely blocked out the implications. He’d told her that he was like her, and that he was about four hundred years old. From that, she should have recognized the import of Vlad’s words Monday night when he had said she’d have an “insanely” long life.

This also meant that if for some reason she married a normal human and had kids, she’d outlive them. After all, the average human lifespan was about seventy to eighty years, so her husband would die first, but that age, multiplied by three, would be two hundred and forty. Or three hundred at the outside for her offspring. She, on the other hand, was looking at possibly four hundred or more. Oh, how that would suck!

Apparently every werepire had undergone a similar moment of realization, because they’d separated from the rest to come and stand before her in a semi-circle, waiting for her to recover enough to be addressed, she assumed.

“Well, shit,” she muttered, sniffling again but not from allergies. “Wow.” She climbed to her feet and found herself looking at four pair of oval-pupiled eyes.

Two of them were female, one of which was an attractive middle-aged woman, the other a girl who looked to be about fourteen. The two males were Leander and a teenager who had probably been – maybe still was – a football player.

“We welcome you, Arissa, and will always be here for you,” said the older female. “Any time you have questions or concerns that you might not wish to share with your mentor, you may call upon any of us. My name is Freya.”

Wasn’t that a Norse goddess or something? “Is that your real name?”

“Yes, Arissa. I’m originally from Norway, but have lived here so long, I no longer have an accent.”

“I see.” That explained the light red-blonde hair and her height, which had to be close to least six feet.

The younger one put out a hand. “Welcome. I’m Maya.” She offered a smile as they shook hands.

Arissa gave her an assessing look. “How long have you been a werepire?”

The girl shrugged. “Nine years. I know – until you came, I was the baby around here.” She giggled, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling. “That made it easy to get away with a whole lot!”

Arissa grinned, liking the girl and hoping they’d have a chance to hang out. Her time spent as a werepire made her a year or so older than Arissa, and they’d probably have a lot of fun together. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

The athletic-looking boy cleared his throat and put out a hand, and a large one it was, too. When he grasped Arissa’s in a careful handshake, her own disappeared inside it. “I’m Reg,” he said in a deep voice.

“Nice to meet you.” I think… He may have looked like a teenager, but the way his eyes were caressing her body was – no, actually, that was exactly like a teenage boy. Still. “Um, how old are you, Reg?” And you can let go of my hand now.

“As of last week, I’m thirty-four.”

Oh, crap. “Really! Ha! Don’t look a day over seventeen!” Where’s the exit?

“That’s about how I feel, too. According to the way this werepire thing works, none of us will show an increase in age until we reach four hundred and seventy-five.”

She gulped. That long? “Sheesh.” She tugged her hand out of his. “Exactly how long do we live?”

“The oldest werepire on record,” said Leander, “was a woman named Crescenda. She was twelve when she got attacked, and didn’t begin to show any signs of aging until she was five hundred and ten. She then aged a year for every seven or so, and eventually died at the age of one thousand fifty-six.”

Arissa felt light-headed all of a sudden, and the room began to rotate around her. “Excuse me,” she whispered, knowing what was going to happen next. “I’ll – um – I’ll be right back.” And she passed out.

FOUR

 

 

What a bizarre dream! thought Arissa, turning over and snuggling deeper into the soft mattress, her face buried in the pillow.

About that pillow, though – it smelled like church incense for some reason… she gave a violent sneeze and woke up.

“Hello there.”

She shrieked.

“Oh, please don’t pass out again, Arissa, dear!” exclaimed Vlad, getting up from an ornate wingback chair near the huge, cushy sofa where she lay quivering.

She pulled herself together, more disappointed that it hadn’t been a dream than distressed over finding Vlad sitting there watching her. “What’s goig od?” She needed a tissue.

“Not much, really. The children told you about your potential lifespan and you, er, passed out. Again. You seem to do that a lot. Are you not well?”

She glared.

“In any event, as you may have surmised, I’m your mentor.”

“Of course you are,” she grumbled. Kyria had said she’d already met this mentor they’d assigned, and since it wasn’t Leander, that left the mechanically-inclined biter of stranded motorists. “Perfect.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine, my, er, Arissa. We simply got off on the wrong foot, so to speak.”

“Yeah, or the wrog deck.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have to blow by dose.” She got up and began pacing around the room in search of tissues. Or even one. One would have been good.

“Ah, yes, now I see. Here – please take this.” Vlad stopped in front of her before she could make another circuit and handed her his cotton handkerchief.

“Hey, thags.” She turned her back and blew her nose, surprised at how much one hanky could contain. Then she told herself that she was being gross, but that didn’t stop her from feeling tempted to return the used item.

Manners won out in the end, though, and she stuffed it into her pocket. She’d opted for a pair of dark blue velvet slacks, a white lacy top, and silver heels. Not too formal, not too casual. Her hair was another story. After trying without success to get it to stay put in a bun, she’d given up and simply swept back the sides with silver sparkly hairclips.

The point being that she had a pocket into which to put the handkerchief.

“Feeling better?” Vlad sat in the chair again, flicking something microscopic from one sleeve with a manicured hand.

Before answering, she returned to the sofa and curled up in the corner. “Yeah. I think I’m allergic to incense.” A second later she realized her nose was no longer stuffed up. Odd…

“It would so appear. What would you like me to tell you?”

“Is blood an acquired taste?”

“No, it’s a craving that has nothing to do with taste. Do you enjoy the taste of air?”

She remembered her new craving several nights earlier, how her mind had equated blood with breathing, and understood. “I get it. Huh. I suppose, though, that to keep yourself from being sickened by it, your brain convinces you that it’s delicious. Like a pregnant woman thinking pickles and ice cream taste good together.”

“Something like that. Although I rather like pickles and ice cream.”

“What? You’re really weird, Vlad. And that reminds me – what’s your real name?”

“Vlad Braşov. I am the illegitimate son of Vlad the Impaler’s half-brother, Vlad IV Călugărul, which in English means ‘Vlad the Monk.’ After ruling Wallachia near the end of Vlad Dracul’s life, he committed an, er, indiscretion with a lady of Braşov, and I was the result. In fact, he helped build the church to St. Nicholas there as a private penance two years later, but he died the same year. Pity. More of a pity was that his lady-love was a vampire, a rather ironic twist of fate, yes?” He chuckled. “My uncle Vlad was the one Bram Stoker wrongly used as the centerpiece for his book, while the whole time it was me, his half-brother’s bastard, who ended up as the true Transylvanian vampire. Nothing like being bitten by your own mother.”

She stared, astonished, but then something occurred to her. “I thought vampires can’t have kids.”

“They can’t. My mother wasn’t one when the Monk had his tryst with her; when she found out she was pregnant, she went to live with a cousin in the countryside, a woman who had been unable to conceive. The plan was to give birth, leave me there, and return to the city.”

“But your mom got turned before she could leave, right?”

“Exactly. Her cousin escaped with me that night – a vampire had broken into the house, killed the woman’s husband, and was going after my mother when the cousin grabbed me from the cradle – my mother told me this part – and ran out into the night, losing us both in the forest. A woodsman found us the next morning and took us in. Years later, I was attending school in Braşov when an attractive older woman approached me on the street. She said I reminded her of a lost relative and invited me to tea. I was, well, the age you see me as now – twenty-two. We had a lovely time, but when I got ready to leave the tea house, she asked if I would walk her home as it had grown late, and she feared being alone on the streets. On the way, she revealed her true identity, and upon giving me a motherly hug, bit me, draining my blood until I was seconds from death. Then she turned me with her own.”

“And that was when?”

“I was turned in 1515.”

“Crap.”

“You like that word, don’t you.”

“I could use a nastier one.”

Vlad smiled, showing his fangs. “Yes, I suppose you could. So now, please allow me to talk to you about what will happen upon the rising of the full moon.”

“Right this moment?” She’d already had school earlier in the day, and between all this mind-bending information about vampires, werewolves, werepires, zombies, crazy long lives and passing out every fifteen minutes, she felt this topic could wait a day or so.

“There is time, and you do look worn out.” Vlad stood and put out a hand. “Come. We will return to the meeting so you may say good-night. All we’ll need from you right now is your e-mail address so we can stop contacting you via home-invasion.” He grinned.

This time, his expression made him look young, and for the first time since meeting him, Arissa felt she could tolerate his company. She took his hand, stood, and they went together back to the meeting room.

 

*****

 

“How come,” said Arissa as she unlocked her car, “I get a vampire mentor but not a werewolf one?”

Leander shrugged. “Probably because we haven’t figured out who bit you. See, the one who does it, if he or she doesn’t kill the prey, has to become the mentor – that’s why Vlad is the vampire who’s mentoring you.”

“So until you find out which werewolf… you know, I’m not sure I’d even want that guy or whatever anywhere near me again.” She opened the door, but instead of getting in, leaned her arms along the top of the window and stared past her fellow werepire.

After everyone agreed that Arissa had had enough for one night, Kyria had asked Arissa to give her email address and phone number to her, Leander, and Vlad, ended the meeting, and the odd group had begun to leave. Leander offered to walk Arissa to her car as they went out. The departing group of not-so-mythical beings now coming through the iron gates looked for all the world like a typical church group heading home after a potluck dinner. Giggling, Arissa observed them dispersing, calling pleasantries to each other as they went to their cars.

“I keep expecting to wake up,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“It certainly does take some getting used to. What always got me was how wrong the rest of the world is about these guys. I mean, yeah, some of it’s accurate, but an awful lot of it is, well, nonsense.”

“Hey.” She looked at Leander, had a moment of intense lust for which she came this close to smacking herself in the face, and decided she had to throw herself into the situation whole-heartedly or she’d go nuts.

“Yeah?” He turned away from the departing group and returned her gaze.

“Until they find this fanged opportunist – ”

“The werewolf?”

“Right. Until they find this werewolf, would you consider filling me in on their history and all that? I mean, I’m sure you know way more than I do, since you probably had one as your own mentor, yes?”

He nodded. “Did you see the man standing next to me at the meeting? I think he said something to you about how special you are. Anyway, he’s the one who bit me. The werewolf, that is.”

“Ah. So how about it?”

“Sure. I’ll have to check with Kyria, but it should be all right.”

“Cool.” Kyria… who did she think she was – the queen or something? Oh, wait. She was the queen. Good grief. “Call me tomorrow if you have time.” Arissa gave a quick wave and got in the car. “See ya.” Amazed at how smooth the engine had been running since Vlad had messed with it, she drove off.

She got home at eleven-thirty according to the radio, and since she had an early class the next morning, she began a mental sweep of her closet to pick out her outfit. Her homework was done, so now all she needed to do was take a shower, watch a few minutes of the news, and go to bed. Her only concern was that with everything she’d been told, sleeping might prove difficult.

What she didn’t count on was what was waiting for her in the livingroom. Unsuspecting, unprepared for anything this horrifying, she blithely unlocked her door, walked in and switched on the light.

And froze. She stared at the wild, glaring eyes burning into her soul like laser beams from across the room. Death had to be the next logical step; only one creature on the planet could evoke this level of fear in the stricken girl.

Her mother.

FIVE

 

 

Seconds ticked by as Arissa fought to reclaim her wits. Her mother had a key – okay, that explained how she’d gotten in, although the girl was frankly tired of her home being treated like Grand Central Station. Next: she’d been rude to the woman all week, hanging up on her, ignoring her calls, making snide comments about distasteful relatives – all right, that explained all the meaningful glaring. Finally: why had her mother come by in the first place? Ah, that one had no answer, so she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and cleared her throat.

“Before you say a word, young lady,” said Mrs. Martin, “I’d like to know how you got blood all over your clothes.” She held up her daughter’s shirt, the one she’d been wearing on Monday and which (naturally) she hadn’t bothered to try washing yet.

Arissa fumed. How was she supposed to answer before she could speak? Sometimes her mother’s logic eluded her. She raised an eyebrow, hoping the woman would realize the foolishness of her request.

“Well?”

Never mind. “I thought I couldn’t say a word. I mean, how can I answer you before I say a word, mother?” She was tired, cranky from fainting at unexpected moments, and couldn’t explain the stains without lying.

“Are you trying to be clever?” Mrs. Martin raised the shirt higher. “Just explain this.”

“I – all right. Remember I told you my car stalled? Well, when I went to lift the hood, the latch got stuck, I lost my balance and fell, scratching the crap out of my shoulder.”

“I figured something like that had happened, knowing how good you are at distracting yourself so badly you invariably get injured. What I want you to explain is why you didn’t bother trying to get the blood out right away. This shirt is ruined!” She dropped it on the floor, her disgust palpable.

“Wha – are you serious? That’s what you’re upset about? And why are you here in the first place?”

“Tell me, Arissa, is one of your classes this semester ‘Mastering Parental Disrespect’? Because if it is, I refuse to continue to pay the tuition for it. Now sit down and tell me what in blazes has been going on. Why have you been avoiding me all week?”

Deciding she needed to sit down anyway, the girl threw herself onto the sofa and crossed her arms. “Nothing. And the only reason I’ve been… hard to reach is because I’m swamped between school-work and work-work.” She shrugged, hoping her words sounded both sensible and convincing. “I guess the stress got to me and I didn’t feel like dealing with anything else.”

“Like your mother?”

Why did the woman always have to make everything about her? “No, Mom, like people in general. Conversations. Whatever. All I wanted was to get through the week, finish the paper that’s due tomorrow, and not get fired for terminal exhaustion at my job.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Maybe I’ll fall asleep, she told herself, and Mom will give up and go away.

But no, that didn’t happen. The sound of a foot tapping was followed by steps approaching, and her mother plopped down beside her. Which was odd, because the woman never “plopped” anywhere. She was too proper for that. Yet there she was, plopping like an old pro. Arissa opened her eyes and turned to regard her with surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The older Martin stifled a yawn. “You’re not the only one who’s tired. And dinner was awful, thanks for asking. Your cousin’s obnoxious sense of self-importance is equaled only by her mother’s insistence on turning everything into an excuse to brag about how much better they and their daughter are than everyone else – including us.”

For some reason, it had never occurred to Arissa that her parents had as big a problem with that side of the family as she did. “Wow, Mom. Looks like we have something in common after all.” She giggled.

“We do, indeed. That insufferable – ugh! I’m sorry, but I’ve never liked my sister-in-law. She comes from a family that’s nothing to boast about, but because her father won the lottery about a year before she married my brother and then died, leaving all his winnings to her, she seems to think that her unearned windfall makes her royalty.”

“And of course, she gave Trina princess lessons.” She almost added, “Hang in there until the next full moon, Mom – I’ll take care of them both!” but realized in time how stupid that would be to say. Not that she wasn’t going to consider doing it…

“The worst part is that Vic goes along with all of it.”

“Uncle Vic is okay, though, Mom. Even though Aunt Lila is a total bitch, I believe he really loves her. Don’t ask me why, but I’m sure he does.”

Mrs. Martin sighed and got to her feet. “You know, I think this is the nicest conversation we’ve had in a long time. The longest, too.” She smiled.

“I agree. Sorry for being such a pain, Mom. Seriously. And I promise to try and get the stains out of my shirt.”

“Oh, don’t bother – it’s hopeless at this point. Promise you’ll do your other laundry, and I won’t say another word about it.”

Arissa stood and gave her mother a quick hug. “I promise. Thanks for coming by.”

“Stop turning your phone off, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her mother gave her a bemused smile, rolled her eyes, and left.

Too worn out to care about anything except sleep, she decided to forego the shower, television, everything. Instead, she headed for her room, removing articles of clothing on the way. Kicking off her underwear and tossing her bra at the window for no reason, she fell into bed, pulled up the covers, and in seconds was fast asleep.

Next thing Arissa knew, the alarm was going off, startling her awake. The sun was up, explaining why the clock was yelling at her; she groaned, still tired but no longer bone-weary. She flailed at the blankets in an attempt to get up, but only succeeded in getting so tangled that she tumbled, helpless, off the side of the bed, still cocooned and exasperated.

“Do you always wake up like that?”

She screamed.

“Sorry.” Leander offered an apologetic grin.

“I thought you were going to email me from now on!”

“I am. I did. But you didn’t reply so I decided to come by and talk to you instead.”

“Oh my god! When did you send it? Three minutes ago?”

“No, last night.”

“Uh-huh.” She struggled to a sitting position and leaned back against the side of the bed. “I suppose it never occurred to you that I might have gone to sleep, being mega-tired and all, remember? What time is it?”

He looked at his watch. “Seven-fifteen.”

“Crap. Look, I have to get ready for school. What is so doggone important that you had to… wait a sec. How, exactly, have you been getting in here? The door is always locked and I’m on the third floor.”

He pointed at the ceiling.

“God lets you in?”

“No, Riss, I climbed down from the roof.”

She gave him a crazy look. “On the outside of the building?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re a lunatic, you know that?”

“No, I’m a werepire. I can scale stuff.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t that be un-scaling? And aren’t you afraid someone will see you?”

“Not really. I mean, so what? Who’d believe them if they told somebody?”

“Your grammar is atrocious. Okay, I can’t do this. I have to get going. I suggest you wait outside.”

“Why? Are you going to blow something up?”

“Fine.” She breathed heavily through her nose for a moment, fuming, then stood and let the blankets fall around her feet. Her bare feet. Bare – like the rest of her. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Leander? Some privacy please?”

“Uh – uh, I – uh… ”

She was as well put together as a model, if she did say so herself (and she did, frequently); Leander obviously thought so, too, if the way he was gaping was any indication.

“Leander. Hello? LEANDER!”

He gulped, turned bright pink and sat down suddenly, placing cupped hands quickly over his lap.

“Un-believable.” Arissa went to the dresser and took out clean underwear, pulled her outfit from the closet, and left the room, heading for the shower. She made sure her laughter would unmistakable even with the door shut and the water running.

Fifteen minutes later she was clean, dressed, and ready for a quick cup of coffee and some cereal before heading out to class. When she entered the kitchen, she found Leander sitting at the table refusing to look at her.

“Coffee?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a simple word, really. Refers to a stimulating beverage. Or have you already had enough stimulation for one day?” She smiled sweetly at him and grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker.

“Look, Riss, I’m sorry, okay? I – I should’ve at least knocked or something. Guess I’ve gotten used to being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“So you break into people’s homes on a regular basis, do you?” She finished rinsing out the carafe and filled it with fresh water, which she poured into the top of the machine.

“That’s not, well, not regularly. Just when I’m, I mean when there’s a full moon, and, and if, if it’s….damn.”

Arissa measured the coffee into the filter basket, humming something not even she could identify, and started the brewing cycle. “Hungry?”

“No.”

She took out a bowl, a spoon, a box of sugary cereal her mother would have grounded her for even thinking about eating, and milk. “Suit yourself. I’m starved.”

Halfway through her repast the coffee stopped dripping and she got up. “Interested?” She got up and lifted the pot at him.

Leander shook his head, but he wasn’t looking at the carafe.

“I was referring to the coffee.” Miffed, she poured herself a cup and returned to the table. Her annoyance wasn’t with him anymore. What was getting to her were her feelings toward him.

“Listen. The reason I came over was to tell you that Vlad wants to meet with you as soon as you’re done with school today. He said to tell you he’d be waiting in the parking lot. The full moon is only two days away, and he wants to make sure you’re ready for what will happen to you.”

“I see you’ve regained your command of speech. Good. So I’m going to turn into a vampire. And?”

His jaw tightened for a second. “Sort of. Actually, werepires are more dangerous than vampires, especially when they’re new, because they have the tendencies of both creatures.”

She took a sip of coffee. “’Splain, Lucee,” she said in her best Ricky Ricardo.

“We have the strength, speed, agility, powers and appetites of both, but not in equal measure as you might assume. This combination is actually more of a double-dose. That means we’re twice everything they are singly.”

“Hmm. Ummmphn.” She swallowed her cereal and tried again. “Ah. I see. So we’re twice as blood-thirsty, twice as animal-like, twice as fast, twice as strong… you’re nodding. Great. So I’m actually Arissa the Supersonic Werepire, eh? I can scale tall buildings at a single scamper, drain humans in half the time of a normal vampire, rip someone to shreds with my bare teeth, and uproot inconvenient parking meters, right? Yay, me.” She finished her meal in silence, wondering what would happen if she were ever caught.

“I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, you know. And incidentally, most of those abilities are there even during non-full-moon days. That’s why it’s so important that you talk to Vlad. He can train you, show you how to cope, how to avoid doing what you just described.”

“I thought we had the best of both species. Didn’t someone tell me that?”

He shrugged. “We do.”

“So it depends on how you define ‘best’ I suppose.”

“May I ride with you to school?”

Why is he changing the subject? “You might. Or you could just run behind the car – I’m sure you’ll be able to keep up.”

“That’s not funny.”

“As funny as the look on your face when I dropped the blankets.”

He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” His voice, while muffled, managed to sound hurt.

“Oh, come on, Leander. Are you really that sensitive?”

He raised his head and gave her a deep stare. “What you did wasn’t fair. I mean, it’s difficult enough for a guy to deal with sudden… nakedness, even if he’s normal. For a werepire, it’s devastating. I was almost unable to keep myself from, uh, from, from - ”

“Jumping me and doing the nasty right there on the floor? I know. Sorry.”

“You know?!”

“Hey, payback, pal. You insist on breaking into my apartment whenever the hell you please, so I had to show you there’d be consequences.” She shrugged and brought her dish and cup to the sink.

“C-consequences!” he spluttered. “Consequences for who?”

“Whom.”

“Whatever. Riss, you’re the one who almost got brutally raped, and believe me, when I say ‘brutal,’ that’s exactly what I mean. The male werepire has pretty much no control whatsoever once he passes that point of no return.”

Something in his tone made her turn to face him, puzzled. She paled, seeing he was dead serious. “So, even if it’s mutual, you’d be, you know, brutal?”

“’Fraid so. I think it’s built in to discourage us from having sex. As you may have surmised, any pregnancy that might result would have devastating ramifications down the line.”

“Wow.” She looked at the floor. “I am sorry, then. On several levels.” Without looking at him again, she left the kitchen, grabbed her purse and books from the hall table and opened the door.

He followed her out, waiting as she locked up, and they went downstairs, silent, Arissa suspecting his thoughts were running along the same line as hers.

The silence continued as they drove to school, but about a block from the entrance to the University, Arissa’s mental wheels stopped their mad spinning. “Okay, don’t take this to mean anything, but I have a question.” She kept her eyes on the road, as much to avoid having an accident as to avoid seeing his reaction. “What if say, two werepires decide they really, um like each other. A lot. Okay, let’s say they fall in love or something silly like that.” She uttered manic giggle. “So! And here’s my question. Wouldn’t that love make it possible for them to be, you know, intimate without one hurting the other?”

He was silent for so long, she almost did look, but then he sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just know that we – male werepires – can’t mess around for fun. A few have, in fact, gotten married, which is how we found out about what happens when their kids try to mate with humans. And as far as I know, the husbands in those relationships didn’t harm their wives in any way. So, maybe.”

“Well, how do you deal with your natural urges?” She’d pulled into the parking lot by this time and was searching for a space that wasn’t on another planet.

“Celibacy.” His voice was wandering about in the Despondent Zone, and she had to clamp down on an impulse to say, “Oh, you poor thing!”

“Really?” There. That didn’t sound like pity. “How long have you been, er, like that? I mean, when was the last time - ?”

“Can we not talk about this?”

Parked at last, she switched off the engine and allowed herself to face him. To her surprise, his jaw was clenched, brows nearly meeting over the bridge of his nose. Great, she thought. Now I want to kiss him. Crap. “Sure, Leander. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you or anything.”

He took a deep breath through his nose, returning her stare. “I know you didn’t. So okay. Can we just say what we’re really thinking here? I don’t know about how you feel, Riss, but I really like you. For that reason, I never approached you before, even though I’ve wanted to for a long time. And yes, I said I didn’t know we had a class together, but I lied. Had to. I didn’t want you thinking I was some kind of stalker. Anyway, when I found out you had become like me, I – please forgive me – I was delighted. It meant I could finally talk to you without committing myself to a relationship that went beyond the friend stage. But now I’m not sure I can handle that, and the last thing I want is to hurt you, physically or in any other way.”

She was astounded. This was the most she’d ever heard him say, for one thing. For another, he’d lied to her? What a horrible thing to do, even if she did accept his reasoning! For yet another, he was confessing that he like her. Uh-oh on steroids. “Wow. Well, since you’re being so honest, I’ll reciprocate. It’ll make me late for class, but whatever.” She sat straighter and took a deep breath. “I like you, too. I’m totally attracted to you, and from what little I’ve come to know of who you are, I find you to be very nice, a really good guy, and if it weren’t for this new development about the whole death-by-sex thing, I’d be all over you right now. There. I said it, and now I’m getting out of the car because that look in your eyes is scaring the snot out of me.”

She grabbed her purse and books, snatched the keys from the ignition, and shoved open the door, all in one smooth, totally un-Arissa-like motion. She was almost in the building by the time he caught up with her.

“Arissa, wait!”

She turned around. “Are you going to - ”

“No, Riss. We’re in front of a school building with students and teachers all over the place.”

“Not to mention the campus police.”

“Them, too. I just wanted to say that I appreciate that you like me. I actually feel a little better about myself. And who knows? Maybe we can make this work somehow. I think we should go talk to Kyria.”

She thought about that. “Hmm. Sounds like a smart idea. Okay.” A smile lit her features and she took off for class, aware that she was now several minutes late and her classroom was on the top floor on the other side of the building. She decided to make a run for it, maybe get to her seat before the teacher noticed how tardy she was.

Werepire Lesson #1: Never run in public. She gave herself this severe advice when, three seconds later, she found herself at the door of her classroom, not winded, not worn out, in fact exhilarated. She’d been unaware of anyone in the halls as she’d zoomed through, but couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. If anyone had seen her, there would be some kind of fallout, no doubt. However, she was here now, and her worries about being scolded by the teacher melted away. This must have been an ability that had developed more fully since her encounter with Vlad on that back road, because the last time she’d hurried outside from class, the speed factor had still been normal. Huh. Still… with a silent “ta-da!” she turned the knob and entered the classroom.

SIX

 

 

“So you see, you don’t necessarily have to kill them.”

“Will I be able to control myself enough, though?”

Vlad gave her a serious look and took a bite of his burger. They were seated in a back corner of The Graduate, a diner located right outside the campus. Already Arissa had learned a number of startling facts, information that rocked the foundations of all she thought she knew about vampirish things.

After her last class, she’d left the building the way she’d come in (slowly, this time), planning to go to her car to wait for Vlad. It had occurred to her that he probably wasn’t sitting on one of the benches, sunbathing. But before she got off the sidewalk, a gorgeous silver Jaguar with dark windows swooshed up to the curb in front of her, the passenger door clicking open in invitation.

Concluding that she wasn’t about to be abducted by a local drug lord, she got in right away and shut the door, sure that Vlad wouldn’t appreciate it if she stood there with the door wide open, peering in to make sure it was him and letting in all that uncomfortable sunshine.

“How are you, Arissa?” he’d asked as the car eased away like a ghost. “Are you hungry?”

In fact, she’d been ravenous, not having bothered with lunch. They’d gone to the diner, and there the surprises had begun. First, after parking he’d told her to go ahead in. She figured he had to cover up or something before leaving the car, but by the time she got to the entrance, he was already there, inside, opening the door for her.

“Not gonna ask,” she’d murmured, shivering from the assault of an over-enthusiastic air-conditioning system.

“I’ll explain anyway,” he’d said through a grin.

The hostess had given Vlad a dreamy smile, making Arissa wonder how well he knew her, and seated them at a table against the back wall and away from the windows. Before he could say anything, the waitress had appeared at the table, pencil poised over her order pad. Having eaten here often enough to know what was on their simple, fifties-style menu, Arissa had ordered a ham-on-rye club sandwich, fries and a diet soda. When the waitress turned to Vlad, she fully expected him to say, “Oh, nothing for me, thanks – a glass of water with lemon, perhaps.”

Nope. He had favored the girl with a high-wattage smile and ordered a burger, rare, with pickles, onion, tomato, mustard and mayo, large cheese fries, a coke, and asked if they had any of those wonderful chocolate chip brownies left, which he wanted with a cup of coffee after the meal.

The look on Arissa’s face pretty much must have said it all, and Vlad had burst out laughing. That was three shocks in a row, so far: that he could run so fast that she never felt him pass her outside, that he could eat regular food, and that he could not only laugh, but become absolutely beautiful when he did. She also noticed that while the tips of his fangs were visible, they didn’t look all that strange.

“Okay,” she’d said. “I can see I know absolutely nothing about anything. Start explaining, please.”

So he had. He told her that while a vampire’s speed was impressive, it was also the only way they could get around during the daytime without looking like lobsters by bedtime. He also told her that as fast as he was, when she “turned” under the power of the full moon, her speed of movement would be twice that of his. Since she’d experienced how swiftly she could go already, she believed him.

Next, he said that all the tales of vampires only able to consume blood because they were too dead to eat (“How can one be ‘too’ dead, eh?”) was only partly true. Their bodies didn’t require constant nourishment from normal sources, but were still capable of processing food in almost the same way as they did before they died. The blood, however, functioned much the way oxygen worked in a living body, providing the animus that kept them undead instead of dead-dead. So blood wasn’t consumed for its nutritional value at all, but rather to keep their bodies going. They didn’t need to breathe, ever, because the intake of living blood was now their breath. This meant they were free to eat purely for enjoyment, and when he’d discovered hamburgers after coming to American many, many years earlier, he’d found his newest favorite snack. Humans, on the other hand, functioned merely as liquid oxygen tanks with a brain.

He also assured her that over the centuries, he’d kept his sense of humor. Many of his kind had not, unfortunately, and their negative mental states had led to the sort of behavior that encouraged what vampires called the Van Helsing Syndrome (giving “VHS” a whole new meaning). When she’d asked if that meant a desire by the living to hunt down vampires and drive stakes through their hearts, he’d nodded, looking unhappy.

After this, he’d begun her lessons in how to live as a werepire. He explained that on nights of the full moon, she’d experience a form of teething pain as her regular canines retracted into her gums and the fanged version grew in over them. The first time that happened, he said, her gums would bleed a lot since the new teeth would have to make their own openings.

She wasn’t thrilled to learned this, but said nothing so he could continue. Next, he told her to be careful about how she moved. Everything she normally did would be enhanced, every sense heightened dramatically, her normal strength increasing to deadly levels. He said she’d have to force herself to move slowly, because she might otherwise find herself going through walls by accident. This wouldn’t cause any injuries to speak of, but would be hard to explain the next day if she’d happened to crash through a wall in her apartment. What to tell the landlord, much less the next-door neighbors, hmm?

The most immediate thing she’d experience, though, would be a driving need for living blood. To satisfy that, she would have several options, all of which he started to go over with her, beginning with the most obvious – biting a human. He said the smartest way to do this, if that was her choice, would be to choose several people instead of only one. That way, she could take “sips” from each until she’d had enough to get her through the next several hours. In this way, none of her victims would have to die.

Now, chewing slowly on his burger, he considered her question about whether or not she’d have enough self-control to avoid murdering the person. Swallowing, he said, “Perhaps not at first. But I’m glad you asked, because this brings us to the next option. Have you ever heard that it’s a good idea to eat something before you go food shopping?”

“Yeah, but what… never mind. Go on.” She knew what he was getting at, but wasn’t sure how she could get blood before hunting for a convenient jugular.

“One of the stories circulating during modern times is true. We do have people working in blood banks, and some of us have personal caches of blood in our homes. You might want to consider doing this yourself. We generally keep the blood in wine bottles, which get stored in cleverly-disguised freezers. For us, it’s a matter of keeping several bottles out and thawed for daily consumption, but the werepire can wait until the day before the full moon to defrost one.”

“Or freeze it on sticks and have blood-pops.”

“No.”

“Sorry.”

“Right. But anyway, I see you get the gist. Have a few glasses before you go hunting. Since this will be your first full moon, though, even that might not be enough. Your craving will be intense, rather like being on the verge of an orgasm but unable to touch yourself.”

“Vlad!”

“Fine. Let me put it a different way. It’s like you’ve been under water so long, you’re only seconds away from drowning, and the surface is less than an inch from your mouth.”

“That’s better.” She didn’t want to admit it, but Vlad was really hot, and him saying things of a sexual nature made her… uncomfortable, but in a pleasant way. “Okay, so the urge will be pretty much irresistible, right?”

“Right. If it’s any consolation, we never leave a newly made werepire on his or her own during the first full moon. Even though you’ll be much stronger than any of us, we have some chance of reasoning with you, of holding you back from doing something regrettable.”

“How?”

“Chains, usually.”

She gave him a suspicious look, realized he wasn’t kidding even a little, and sat back, eyebrows raised in appreciation of how much more serious this was than she’d imagined.

“It may take several of us to secure you, but secure you we will, and then make sure you get enough blood to calm you down. Once that’s accomplished, you’ll be taken on your first hunt, where we’ll show you how to attract a human, take your sip, and leave the person with no memory of what happened.”

“Except for the odd dual punctures on the person’s throat?”

“Not even that. We can heal those. You experienced that yourself.”

Arissa frowned, confused. “But won’t that turn them?”

“Not the few small drops of blood necessary for such a small wound, no. In your case, you were bleeding out through a major artery and would have died soon. I had to give you a much greater quantity, which, mingled with the toxins from the werewolf, completed the turning process.”

“Good grief.”

They said nothing for a while after this, finishing their meal in comfortable silence. Arissa ordered coffee, too, but wasn’t in the mood for dessert. When they were almost done and Vlad was pressing his forefinger into the plate, gathering the fallout of crumbs from his brownie, she asked him how soon on the date of the full moon she would start to feel the changes.

“They’ll probably wake you up.” He put his finger in his mouth like a little boy, licking off the crumbs.

“Oh, hell. That’s going to happen Monday, and I have both classes and work that day.”

“You might want to skip your first class, then, since you’ll be dealing with bleeding gums and severe mouth pain.”

“Oh, perfect.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. You can take aspirin – five should do it – and be ready to head out in time for second period.”

“What about work? My hours are four until nine-thirty.”

He sat straighter, no longer in casual mode. “Call in sick. Under no circumstances should you be there after sundown.”

“Could I – ”

“Arissa, listen to me. If you go to work Monday, you’ll kill everyone there before you even realize what you’ve done. I’m not exaggerating. Stay home after school – one of us will be waiting there for you. In fact, call your boss today and tell him you have a family emergency that will take you out of town on Monday. This will give him a chance to replace you on your shift.”

“That bad, eh?”

“That bad.” He pushed the plate away. “Ready to go? We still have other options to discuss, if you’re in the mood to keep listening.”

“As if I had a choice! Sure. Where to?”

“My home. I need to train you in controlling your strength and speed, not something we can do in the local gym. I live in a loft and have a large open area for exercise.”

“Cool – okay.” Four day ago, had someone told her she’d be having lunch with a vampire, casually discussing the best way to drink blood and bite people, she’d have had that someone Baker-Acted immediately. And had she realized that the very vampire who had bitten her, turned her, and totally pissed her off four nights earlier would turn out to be this charming, funny, seriously sexy and kind-hearted man driving her around in a to-die-for Jag, she would have… well, she didn’t know what she would have done. But regardless – it was all good now.

Once again, he did the faster-than-a-chipmunk-on-fire dash from the diner to his car, then from the parking garage across the street from his building to the front door, but this time, she nearly kept pace with him.

“Hey, how come you have to park across the street?” she asked as he was unlocking the door.

“Because these used to be warehouse spaces, and the building didn’t have underground parking of its own. There is a lot out back, but I prefer keeping my car out of sight. I’m sure you can appreciate why.”

“Yeah, late-model Jaguar, tinted windows – a carjacker’s dream.”

“Exactly. At night, the garage is constantly patrolled and under video surveillance, too.”

They took a converted freight elevator to his floor, which was the fourth of six. The apartment covered       a vast space with sparse but tasteful decor, the living areas defined by expensive-looking carpets, leather furniture, and gorgeous antique tables, curio cabinets, and pricey-looking knick-knacks.

“So what’s this other option?” she asked, laying her purse on a table, her books beside them. “And wow, by the way. This is gorgeous! What do you do for a living?”

“Not much these days. After nearly five hundred years, I’ve managed to accumulate enough wealth to keep me in luxury without having to labor for it. I do volunteer work now.”

“Where?”

“Assisted living facilities, libraries, museum, places like that. In the libraries and museums, I work in the archive sections which are invariably located in the basement. No one else really likes that, but I’m fine with it – no windows, so I can be there during the day.”

“Smart.”

“Well! Have a seat and we’ll talk a bit more, then I’ll introduce you to your first vampire work-out.”

By the time he dropped her off at her car, she was tired in that just-had-an-awesome-day-at-the-beach way, having learned not only that she could out-gymnastic any gymnast on the planet, but that her other options when she went all fang-like included a hemoglobin I.V. drip, allowing herself to be restrained in a straitjacket and monitored by her mentor or another who might volunteer to help her through first-night cravings, or all-night sex.

Yeah, no. That last one she declined with a polite but firm “No, thank you,” which Vlad claimed he fully expected her to do.

“You’re a decent young lady,” he said, “and I really didn’t think you’d want to go that route. But,” and he shrugged, “I had to make it available.”

And that was that. She felt far more prepared now, at least to deal with the change. Before starting to make supper that evening, she called her boss and told him she couldn’t come in on Monday – a family situation had arisen, and she couldn’t avoid it. No lie there, really. Mr. Peterson, the manager of the jewelry shop in the mall where she worked, expressed his appreciation that she hadn’t waited until the last minute to tell him, and said he hoped everything would be all right. She thanked him, told him she’d be in Wednesday, and hung up.

All in all, it had been a good day, despite the weird way it had started. Now all she had to deal with was what to do about her growing infatuation with Leander.

“Infatuation my butt,” she mumbled, removing her meal from the oven. “Feels more like you’re in love with him, ya big twit. Go figure.”

SEVEN

 

 

Saturday – normal. Arissa slept in, eased into breakfast, did some light housework, showered, dressed, went for a jog through the park three blocks from her apartment, had a pleasant phone conversation with her mother… okay, not so normal. Later, she showered again, ate lunch, did a bit of window-shopping, changed into clothes with a little sparkle, and went dancing with three of her friends. Nice day.

Sunday – normal. She slept in, eased into breakfast, took a shower, threw on some sweats and trotted down to the local movie-rental store, got three (a romance, a comedy, and a super-hero action film), made a huge bowl of popcorn, watched two of the movies, went to the store and bought a massive bottle of aspirin, picked out an outfit for school, took an early evening jog, came back and changed, treated herself to dinner at one of the less expensive restaurants nearby, came home, got ready for bed, watched the last movie, and set her alarm clock before going to sleep.

Monday – not normal. Not normal at all. By three o’clock in the morning, she was eating aspirin, moaning, and spitting blood into the bathroom sink. Vlad had used the term “teething.” Ha! No way! If babies had to go through this much pain, they’d all grow up to be axe-murderers. This, in her opinion, was not teething. It was torture. By ten, the worst of it had passed, but she was left with an alarming set of vampire fangs which she might have considered cool were it not for the fact that they were making her talk funny. She found this out while peering at her reflection; she’d leaned closer to the mirror over the sink to check out these bizarre additions to her mouth and tried to say, “Isn’t this interesting.”

What came out was, “Ithn’t thith intewesthting.” She rolled her eyes in disgust and tried again. “Ith… cwap.” Saying the “r,” she had realized in the nick of time, would have caused her to puncture her lower lip. She practiced opening and closing her mouth to see if she could do so without getting injured, and after several tries, figured it out.

“Okay. Again. Ishn’t dish intrrreshting.” Better, but not by much. She kept at it, glancing at her watch every few minutes, finally accepting that she wasn’t going to make it to her second class of the day, either. By the time she’d re-mastered her ability to pronounce words without sounding like Tweety Pie, it was one-thirty in the afternoon, and she was so tired she doubted she could drive without face-planting into the steering wheel. At least if she did decide to bite people that night, they wouldn’t die laughing at her before she could do her vampire thing.

No point in getting undressed again, she reasoned, and lay down on the sofa for a nap. She was so fatigued by her lack of sleep the night before, she didn’t even dream. At around seven o’clock, her need to pee prodded her awake. She stretched, opened her eyes, and realized she could see in the dark. They hadn’t told her she’d be able to see in the dark. Why hadn’t they told her she’d be able to see in the dark? And was someone sitting on the loveseat across from her?

She screamed.

“Not again,” said Vlad, his tone a vocal eye-roll. “Arissa, I truly hope you don’t wake up that way all the time.”

“I usually wake up alone,” she said, gathering her dignity and sitting up, “so… no.” She stood and dashed into the bathroom, calling, “Excuse me if I’m not used to finding guys watching me sleep when I wake up!” The way she’d said that made no sense, but so what?

When she came back out, he gave her one of those lopsided grin-things. “You’re very cute when you’re asleep. Leander is a lucky man.”

“What?!” She started to protest, but a sudden pain shot through her stomach and she doubled over. “Ow! What the hell!”

“Hunger pains, my dear.”

“Seriously? Ow, ow, ow!” She heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked and her nose would have twitched had she been a vampire rabbit. “What’s that?!”

“Blood, of course - ”

Before the words were barely past his lips, she was across the room, grabbing the bottle away, and then stood there downing its contents in a long, happy guzzle. She shoved the bottle back at him. “More.”

He raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, and took another bottle from under his jacket. He uncorked it and shoved it at her. “Here – didn’t want you to bite the neck off and end up swallowing glass.”

She drank again without pause, swiping an arm across her mouth when she was done, and licked the resulting red smear off the back of her wrist. “I need more.”

“I know. Have you thought about how you’d like to do this?”

A vicious gleam in her eye was accompanied by a matching grin. “Trina and her mother. They deserve a touch of anemia.”

“Who?”

“My cousin and my Aunt Lila.”

He looked distressed. “You know, relatives aren’t recommended unless you plan to kill them when you’re done. They do have a tendency to talk among themselves, you know.”

“Oh, come off it, Vlad! Who would believe them? I missed Trina’s birthday party the other night because of the meeting, and she and her mom are pretty miffed at me. Everyone knows it, so if they tried to accuse me of biting them, the rest of the family would tell them to stop being so vindictive, or to find a more plausible way to slander me.”

“Hmm. I suppose I could try to make them forget, too.”

“Wait.” She frowned, licked the mouth of the bottle for a moment, realized what she was doing, and stopped. “Didn’t you say that was something we could do anyway? Heal them up and make them forget?”

“Yes, but not blood relatives. Is your aunt related to your parents?”

“Only by marriage.”

“I see. She’ll be no problem, then. But her daughter is another story.”

“You can say that again,” Arissa muttered. “But look – if her mom doesn’t remember, even she won’t believe Trina, so what’s the big deal? Let’s go.”

“I - ”

“Vlad! I’m starving!” She grabbed his hand and almost pulled him through the door without opening it.

Out on the street she asked if he wanted to take her car or his, but he shook his head and told her to look around. When she did, she realized that this nighttime was not her regular one, that everything was brighter than usual, all of her senses in high gear and filling her with an exhilaration she wouldn’t have thought possible before.

“Is this how it is for you all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. No wonder you don’t commit suicide over not being able to go out much in the day! I love this!”

He gave her an indulgent smile, like a proud parent watching his toddler take her first steps. “I rather thought you might. As for driving – why? We can get there faster running.”

She stared at him in surprise, having totally forgotten about that ability. “So I can now run as fast as you normally do?”

“No, dear Arissa. Faster. You’ll have to pull me along, I’m afraid, or you’ll lose me.” He stepped up beside her and took her hand. “I assume you know where these relatives live?”

“Well, duh.” She gazed around once more in brief wonderment, and took off.

Like a starship at warp speed, she made a tunnel through the air, everything directly in front of her clear, everything on either side elongating into star-trail blurs. She couldn’t feel the street beneath her feet yet knew they were touching it. She wasn’t breathing, and her body experienced no fatigue despite the super-human pace she maintained, nor did she feel the weight of Vlad being hauled along faster than he claimed he was accustomed to moving.

Three houses away from the one her aunt and uncle owned in a posh subdivision, she slowed and stopped. She wasn’t even winded.

“Nice neighborhood,” Vlad remarked.

“I guess. If you like zero lot-lines, that is. Personally, I couldn’t stand living in a house so close to the ones on either side that you can practically reach through your window and poke your neighbor in the eye.”

“I… okay. Which house?”

She nodded toward a two-story home painted yellow with white trim, registering the fact that normally she’d only be able to detect its color in the daylight. “What time is it?”

“Eight twenty-two.”

“Damn. They’ll still be up.”

“Where is your aunt’s bedroom?”

“Not sure. One of those windows on the second floor.”

He leaned back against a nearby tree. “Naturally. I suggest we wait until some of the lights go out, then.”

“But I’m so hungry, Vlad! Can’t we just, you know, zap up there and… and… ”

“Yes?”

“Crap.”

“Ah, that lovely word again. By the way, I’m glad to see you mastered talking with your new teeth. It takes most werepires much, much longer.”

“I practiced.”

“The lisp- ”

“Yeah.” She went to the front of the house and started to climb the five steps up to its front porch.

“What are you doing, Arissa?”

“They’re my relatives. I seriously doubt they’ll question my being here.” She rang the bell, not caring what Vlad thought about it.

A moment later, her aunt opened the door and favored her with a smile beneath bulging eyes. “Arissa! What are you doing here?”

Only momentarily disconcerted, she answered, “I, um, well, I missed the party the other night because of a meeting I couldn’t avoid, and wanted to come by to wish Trina a belated happy birthday. And apologize for missing dinner. May I come in?”

The woman stepped back. “Of course, dear. Trina is in her room. I – oh! And who is this?”

Arissa glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Sorry. This is Vlad. He didn’t want me wandering around alone at night. May he come in, too?”

“What? Well, for heaven’s sake, I’m not going to make him wait on the porch! Please come in, er, Vlad, is it?”

He gave her a beautiful, charming smile and crossed the threshold. “Thank you so much. You’re Arissa’s Aunt Lila, yes?” Under his breath, he added so low that only Arissa could hear, “Oh, you’re good, Riss. You’re very good.”

“What a polite young man!” Lila was saying. “I am, indeed. May I get you anything?”

“No, thanks. We’ll be having dinner later.”

“I see. Ah! Vic, darling, your niece stopped by with her friend to wish Trina a belated happy birthday! Isn’t that nice!”

Yeah, so “nice” that I’m only his niece! Arissa could almost feel her fangs itching. “Hey, Uncle Vic. Hope it isn’t too late for a visit.”

“Not from you, sweetie. Look, why don’t you and Aunt Lila go up and see Trina. Your friend and I can have a visit while you’re doing that.”

“Great idea! Come on, Aunt Lila.” With a wicked glance over her shoulder for Vlad, she followed her aunt up the stairs.

They went down the hall to Trina’s bedroom, where the older woman knocked and called her daughter’s name. “Your cousin is here, pumpkin! May we come in?”

Trina opened the door, her expression sour. “Great. You couldn’t be bothered coming to my party, so you show up in the middle of the night on a Monday and expect everything to be fine now, right?”

Arissa pushed past the annoying blond, who she knew was only blond because of talented hairdressers. “Pretty much,” she said.

Lila shut the door, but as she did, Arissa’s enhanced hearing detected a small, manly scream coming from somewhere downstairs. Vlad must have been enjoying a snack of his own, she figured.

“So other than good wishes,” said Trina, “what have you brought me for my birthday?”

Ah, no sweeter opening could have been given, thought Arissa. “May I have a hug first?” Not waiting for the other girl to answer, she threw her arms around her cousin and sank her fangs into the girl’s throat.

“Arissa, darling, what are you doing?” asked her aunt.

How tempting it was to keep drinking, Arissa thought distantly, her hunger pangs abating a tiny bit. Trina whimpered, however, and the sound brought the werepire back far enough into the realm of realization for her to get momentarily grossed out by the fact that she was sucking on her despised cousin’s neck. She pulled away, licking her lips to hide any telltale blood. “Just being affectionate to a relative I hardly ever see,” she replied.

Trina, meanwhile, opened her mouth to say something, but instead fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.

“Trina!” The girl’s mother went to Trina’s side, giving Arissa her opportunity.

Had Vlad not entered the room a few minutes later, the woman would have been headed for the family mausoleum. “Sip, Arissa! Not guzzle!”

Detaching her lips from the woman’s neck, she sat back on her heels. “Fine. If this is all I can have, may we go now? There must be a hundred jugulars out there with my name on them.”

Vlad didn’t answer right away. He was too busy keeping Arissa’s relatives alive. When he looked like he was sure he’d given the older woman enough blood to heal and restore her, he took care of Trina. Once this was accomplished, he pulled Arissa to the window and put out the lights in the room.

A few seconds later, Trina and her mother regained consciousness and jumped up, confused about having been lying on the floor in the dark.

“What happened?” Trina demanded, staring around, wild-eyed. She looked directly at her cousin and Vlad, but couldn’t see them in the dark, even though they could see her perfectly. Vlad whispered something, his eyes it by a slight glow, and then he fell silent, this behavior lasting maybe a tenth of a second.

“I – I think the lights went out,” said her mother uncertainly. “And then – then I came in to check on you – or – yes, that’s it. And we bumped into each other in the dark. How silly!” She let out a laugh that sounded more like a goose honking at its young, and started groping for the door.

Moving so fast that the curtains didn’t even twitch with their passing, Arissa and Vlad whooshed out the window, landing upright on the lawn with ease. They shared a grin before whizzing off again into the night.

By the end of which, Arissa was fully satiated and ready for some real fun.

“What do you mean, ‘real fun’?” asked Vlad when she mentioned it.

She frowned. “You know, I have no idea. I only know I’m not at all tired and feel like doing something, anything.”

“Good! That means I can take you with me to share one of my secret pleasures. Hope you’re up for it!”

“Midnight Bowling?” Arissa practically shrieked a few minutes later as he led her into the cavernous, noisy building with gaudy lighting and the aroma of feet.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, geez. Nothing, Vlad. Nothing at all. Other than that besides the geek factor I’m a terrible bowler.”

“No, Arissa, dear, you’re a werepire in vampire phase. You can do everything well tonight.”

And as it turned out, he was right.

EIGHT

 

 

The actual full moon only lasted a matter of minutes, rather like a total eclipse. But to the naked human eye it appeared to sustain its fullness throughout the night, and into the next night as well. But for both the werewolf and the werepire, only during the first night in this phase did the moon have any effect. Thus, Tuesday morning found Arissa spazzing out of bed as usual when the alarm went off. The fangs were gone, she soon discovered, even if their retraction left her gums a tad sore. Other than that and the jumbled memories of an extremely weird night, it was as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Satisfied that no one was hanging around in her room watching her sleep, or in the other rooms leaving annoying notes and letters, she got ready for the day. After a normal breakfast, she grabbed her things and opened the front door.

She screamed.

A man was lying right outside the door. A naked man. His being curled up was the only reason the full-frontal thing wasn’t adding to the horror of the moment. Arissa, recovering her ability to breathe, gave him an experimental poke with her toe.

He moaned and started to uncurl.

“No!” She yelled. “Don’t do that – don’t move!”

“Huh?” He froze and opened one eye with which he peered up at her. The eye widened, the brow above it shooting into the stratosphere. He muttered an unacceptable word. He cleared his throat. “You have a blanket or something?”

“You have an excuse?”

“Wha – oh. For not being, er, dressed and all that?”

“Yeah. And all that.”

“I’m sorry, but… may I come in?”

“Are you out of your mind? Wait – what am I saying? Of course you’re out of your mind. I mean, what kind of guy who isn’t out of his mind would go to sleep in front of some girl’s apartment, totally… undressed and – and – I’m babbling, aren’t I. Crap! Who the hell are you?”

Covering the most vulnerable part of himself with both hands, he sat up. “Did anything bite you lately?”

Arissa was a smart young lady, able to draw conclusions quickly. Naked guy at her front door asking about her being bitten…“You.”

He used another bad word. “I knew it. Look, I’m really sorry.”

“Right. Are you back to finish the job?”

“No. Of course not. By the way, and if it’s any consolation, you have one hell of a kick – it took days before I could walk normally again.”

She smiled.

“Yeah, thought you might feel that way.” He stood, keeping himself covered, and looked down at her, frowning as if trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t end in him either being killed or arrested, but did a double-take and looked more closely at her eyes. “Are you kidding me? A vampire bit you, too?”

“Oval pupils gave that away, did they? And yes. Right after you took off. Lucky, lucky me. Allow me to introduce myself – I’m Arissa Martin, Werepire-At-Large. And you, my naked friend, are my werewolf mentor. In fact, that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from kicking you out on the street without the benefit of covering.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He shrugged and began to move his hands, but returned them to their jock-strap-with-fingers position at the last second. “Um… I don’t know. Or, well, I didn’t until you told me that. My instincts must have led me here, because normally I’d never seek out a, a, er, you know – ”

“A victim? Why not? Wouldn’t you want to introduce yourself as Leader of the Pack or something?”

“I – no! No, see, I’m not the leader, or as Hollywood has decided to call it, the ‘alpha’. I’m just a stinkin’ werewolf.”

“Ha! ‘Stinkin’ is right, buddy – when you’re in that form you smell really, really bad, if I remember correctly.”

“Not true. I usually smell no worse than a dog; the only reason I was kinda ripe that night was because when I was running through the woods looking for a snack, I accidentally stepped on a skunk, and it let me know exactly how it felt about that.”

She gave him a crazy look. “What? Who steps on a skunk? I mean, that had to take some mad skills, and frankly, I’d say you deserved… how’d you get rid of the smell?”

“Tomato juice. It seems to be the only thing that really works. And a boatload of disinfectant.” He shuddered.

Arissa sighed, feeling the beginnings of pity for this poor young man. Who, now that she wasn’t feeling quite so inclined to stab him with her shoe, she had to admit was quite good-looking. As was Leander. As was Vlad. This was getting ridiculous.

She stepped back from the door and waved him inside. As he passed, she didn’t even try to resist checking out his backside. She smiled.

“If you say I have a cute ass, I’ll hurt you,” he muttered, apparently aware of her gaze.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s sexy, not cute.” She went to the bedroom after telling him to stay right where he was, and came out a second later with her quilt. “Here.” She threw it at him and gestured toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable while I arrange to get you some clothes.”

“How are you going to do that?”

By conjuring up your tailor who lives in the same region of hell you came from! her mind shrieked at him, startling her badly. Her eyes bugged out for a second and she turned away, taking out her cell phone. What the heck was that? Arissa wondered, waiting for Leander to respond.

“Hey, Riss! How’d it go last night?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it was good. I can tell you about it later. Right now I have a bigger problem.” She glanced over her shoulder at the werewolf, realizing she didn’t even know his name. “Remember you told me my werewolf mentor had to be the one who bit me, but that no one knew who he was or where to find him? Well, he found me. I opened my door to go to class, and there he was, naked as the day he was born, sleeping on my doormat. He needs clothes, I need to go to school, and I think you or Vlad should get over here ASAP. Looks like he’s about your size, maybe a bit… buffer? A little taller, too. I gave him a blanket and he’s – oh, for heaven’s sake, what is it now?” Someone had rung her doorbell while she was on that last sentence. She really hoped it wasn’t her mother.

The bell sounded again.

“Hang on,” she muttered into the phone. Giving the werewolf a slight glare, she went to the door.

“How’s this?” asked Leander, holding out a set of folded clothing.

She screamed.

 

*****

 

“According to Vlad, she does that a lot.”

“I can hear you, you know!”

The werewolf, who had finally introduced himself as Blaine Worthington, finished getting dressed right as Arissa came back into the living room carrying a tray of food.

“By the way,” she continued, setting the tray down on the part of the coffee table that wasn’t cluttered with magazines, books and an empty personal-size pizza box, “I probably wouldn’t have to scream so much if you guys would stop doing stuff that startles me.”

“Guess you startle easily.”

She glared at Blaine, wondering, as with Vlad, if that was really his name, or if he was an actor or something. “No, I’m just not used to finding naked guys on my doorstep, vampires watching me sleep, and… oh, forget it.” She threw herself onto the chair across from the sofa and waved at the tray. “Eat.”

“You sound like my grandmother.” Blaine grinned and reached for a sandwich.

“Oh yeah? How often did you make her miss school?”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. I was simply making a point.”

Leander picked up one of the two soda cans sweating on the tray and popped it open. “Well! Now that you’re part of this, Worthington, I guess we’ll have to go see Kyria.”

“I figured. How’s your mom, by the way?”

“Cool. I finally convinced her to tell my step-father what was going on, and he was, well, he wasn’t okay with it, but he handled it better than I thought he would.”

“Hold it. You two know each other?” Arissa was a tiny bit outraged. “And how could your mother… didn’t you say you were over four hundred years old?”

“When she found out what had happened to me, she demanded that she be turned, too. Said she couldn’t stand the thought of me living for so long alone.” He sighed. “What a mess. The vampire who bit me hadn’t gone too far, mainly because she was busy being snarled at by the werewolf in an alley. Anyhow, she – ”

“Stop. I’m really confused now. No snide remarks about that, either, wolf-boy.”

Blaine closed his mouth and took another bite of his sandwich.

“Okay. Guess we never got into details, did we.” Leander took a quick sip of his soda.

“No. I was too busy screaming and fainting, remember?”

Blaine choked.

“All right. It’s kinda complicated, but not too different from your own experience.” He took another sip and sat back. “The brief version is this: I was out with friends one night – ”

“Where? I mean, where are you from? Where did this happen?”

“Athens.”

“You’re Greek?”

“Yes.”

That explained the bod and the name. “Okay, go on.”

“Right. So anyway, I was out with friends. We were about to go raid the local tavern, but I dropped my money. We only had coins back then, and they scattered all over the street, so my friends told me to catch up, that they didn’t feel like waiting. When I was reaching for the last of the coins, I sensed someone behind me and stood up.

“A woman’s voice whispered to me not to turn around, and being young and incredibly stupid, I figured she was going to… erm, anyhow, what she did was bite me. Said she just needed a quick sip. Then she was gone, and I was left standing there, dizzy, feeling a bit sick, and then out of nowhere, this huge wolf came crashing into me. It knocked me down and went for my throat. I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to see it kill me, and only felt its teeth in my neck and shoulder.

“And then, to my complete surprise, it started acting like it was coughing up a fur ball or something, and jumped off. Before I could do anything else, the vampire was back. She bit her wrist and started pouring her blood down my throat. I remember thinking it was disgusting. Anyhow, she told me I had to go home, that I was now a werepire, and that someone would be contacting me. To my amazement, I had begun to heal almost immediately and was able to ask her what she was talking about. She kept looking over her shoulder – I found out later that she wanted to make sure the werewolf didn’t take off before she could track it and make sure it, uh, did the right thing once it was human again.

“Anyhow, she said that I would turn into a vampire on nights of the full moon and that I would live for hundreds of years. And then she was gone.”

“And you went home, and then?”

“I told my mother what had happened. At first she didn’t believe me – thought I was already drunk. But then I showed her the holes in my shirt, and pulled it back so she could watch the torn flesh knitting back together. Needless to say, she believed me after that, but then she freaked and said no way was I going to go through all that time by myself, and ran out the door to find the vampire.” He sighed again. “I love my mom. I really do. But as a mother, she didn’t realize what a horrible future she was describing – a young man stuck living with his mother for centuries. What are you laughing at?”

Arissa had doubled over in silent hysterics. When she could breathe again, she pointed at Leander and gagged out, “You – you’re a – a dweeb! A mamma’s boy werepire! Ack!”

That last sound was her reaction to Leander suddenly yanking her out of the chair, then sitting on top of her on the floor. “I am not a mama’s boy!” he grated.

She snorted, calm despite her position of disadvantage. “Then why are you reacting so violently?”

His nostrils flared. “Fine. I agree it looks like that. And I hate it, okay? Fact is, she came to grips long ago with the reality that I had to live my own life without her up my butt every minute of every day. She finally remarried, a bunch of times, actually. My father died of old age about three hundred and eighty-five years ago, and her latest husband adopted me, so he’s my step-father. And yes, I know Blaine. We all know each other, remember?”

“I do now. By the way,” she asked with false sweetness, “are you planning to sit on me all day?”

“What?”

“Get off me, Leander. You’re squishing me.”

“Oh.” He leaned forward, gave her a brief, hot kiss on the mouth and stood up.

She didn’t move. “What was that for?”

“Felt like it. You’re gorgeous. Sorry.”

She tapped her fingernails on the floor, pursing her lips. “I see.” Not that she’d minded. After all, she adored Leander, or thought she did. It was his dimples, really. Still. He could have asked, or chosen a more appropriate time. A more appropriate reason, too. Ah, well. She had time to help him with that. Centuries, it seemed. At least he had gotten past the angst of being celibate well enough to kiss her without doing anything more intrusive. Or painful.

“Riss?”

“Hm?”

“You gonna stay there all day?”

“I might.”

“Is she always this odd?” asked Blaine.

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Sorry, uh, Arissa, yes?”

“Yes.” Enough of this. She sat up and drew up her knees, clasping her hands at her ankles, and then stared at the two mythical pieces of eye candy cluttering up her sofa. With all this time at her disposal, why couldn’t she go out with both? she wondered. With Vlad, too. The possibilities made her smile. She stood. “Finish up. I have stuff to do, you guys, and really need to throw you out.”

They complied, thanking her when they were done, and headed for the door.

“I’ll talk to Kyria,” said Leander, one hand on the doorknob. “She’ll want you, Worthington and Vlad to get together soon, I believe. See you at school.” He gave her another quick, scorching kiss, surprising her again, and went out.

“Hey, sorry about all this,” Blaine said, the apology in his voice as real as his words. “I spent this past month trying to remember what I did, who I bit, and figuring out what to do about it. I probably should have just gone to the group and asked. Guess that makes me an idiot.”

“Well, maybe a little.” His distress looked so genuine, she couldn’t bring herself to excoriate his behavior any more than he already was. “Anyhow, I’m glad we finally met and can get this mentoring thing taken care of.”

“Me, too.” Then, like Leander, he planted one hell of a kiss on her lips and was gone before she could either thank him or kick him again.

“Wow. Hey, Mom, guess what happened to me today!” She shook her head and went back for her purse and books, realized she had totally missed her one class of the day, and grabbed only her purse. “May as well go do some shopping before work.” With a bemused smile, she went out, locked the door, and left.

NINE

 

“We tend to have furry children. Strong and healthy, but furry.”

“No zombies, though?”

“Not unless the former sex-partner of the child of two werepires happens to get a werewolf pregnant, but the resulting offspring aren’t exactly zombies. They’re usually just hairy, double-jointed narcoleptics.”

Arissa gave Blaine the look of doubt she reserved for people she suspected were pulling her leg. “Um, Kyria, is he joking?”

“Not even a little,” said the priestess. “I’ve met the only four in existence. It was, to say the least, a disconcerting experience.”

The Saturday after her first encounter with Blaine had brought with it a summons from the VP for both of them to meet at her home. She lived in a three-story house that on the outside looked like it belonged in a Vincent Price movie – dark grey clapboard and shingles with a black slate roof, crumbling gingerbread trim on the overhangs, dark shutters hanging at odd angles at the windows, the paint on them peeling, several spooky-looking turrets with creaking weathervanes that all spun in different directions, and about eight or nine chimneys. On Halloween, no one even ventured onto the street where it sat like an architectural vulture, much less attempted to navigate its rotted steps to reach the flaky black front door.

Kyria told them she had spent a small fortune getting it to look like that. She’d even had false windows set into the frames to block all views of what was really inside.

Upon arriving, Arissa had met Blaine at the wrought-iron front gate attached to two huge, weathered brick pillars, atop which sat pissed-off-looking gargoyles. During the winter holidays, she later found out, Kyria would tie festive red bows around their scaly necks, making them look simultaneously pissed-off and embarrassed.

But on this Saturday morning, they only glared down at the two visitors; it wasn’t hard to imagine them rolling their bugged-out stone eyes.

Before Arissa could try opening the gate, a voice had come out of one of the gargoyles, startling the girl so badly she almost screamed. “Welcome, dears,” said Kyria, sounding like she was in a tunnel. “I’ll open the gate, then I want you to stand behind the pillars. When they open, step in.”

Judging by his eyebrows – one raised, the other scrunched – Arissa concluded that Blaine had never been here either.

Kyria, it seemed, was either eccentric or maybe paranoid. She’d had an elevator built into each pillar by which the visitor was brought down to an underground passage running parallel with the front walk, and which ended at another elevator, this one old-fashioned and elegant, that brought them up into the house.

And what a house it was! The elevator opened onto a foyer with pink and white marble floors, sheer taupe drapes held aside by black satin bows at the arched doorways on either side, a sweeping staircase covered in thick, cream-colored carpeting, the walls paneled with what Arissa recognized as pecan wood. Gold-framed portraits and landscapes decorated these walls, all of it lit by the most beautiful chandelier the girl had ever seen, the crystals so sparkly, she wondered if they were actual diamonds.

As soon as they’d stepped out of the elevator, an elderly gentleman had appeared from one of the doorways, everything about him – his clothing, his stance, his demeanor – shouting, “Butler!” Intoning the words “this way, please,” he’d led them through several rooms, all of them filled with rich but tasteful decor, some of the items looking like they belonged in a museum.

Their brief but interesting journey ended at a library where they found Kyria sitting behind a desk, writing in what Arissa guessed was a journal; she was scratching along the page with a feather quill which she dipped into an ink bottle in front of the small volume. She’d looked up when they entered and smiled, the points of her fangs barely visible and somehow intriguing behind her full lips.

“Ah, there you are!” she’d exclaimed, standing. “Thank you, Socrates.” She’d given the man a brilliant smile and he turned to leave.

“Hold it.” Arissa, aware as she was of the whole living-forever thing among Kyria’s kind, had said, “He isn’t… I mean, is that the original… I - ”

Kyria had burst out laughing. “Yes, you charming girl, he’s the same Socrates you’ve read about in school.”

“But – but didn’t he, like, drink hemlock and… ”

“He did, but since he was a vampire, it didn’t do him any harm. And because he was already dead, faking his own death was easy. They simply dug him up a few days later and got him out of the city before anyone noticed him walking around.”

Incredulous, Blaine had given the man a wild-eyed stare. “Oh, my god! But – you were the best! Brilliant! And now you’re a – a butler?”

The Greek philosopher had offered him a shrug. “It’s a living.”

“Right… ” Arissa had mouthed the word “wow,” and asked Kyria if she could sit down.

A short while later, after Socrates had made a brief reappearance with a tray of fruit and cheese, they’d settled into a discussion about Blaine’s mentoring of Arissa. Starting with how he had become a werewolf in the first place, then on to the characteristics, advantages and shortcomings of the werewolf class, they’d eventually gotten around to the question of reproduction, hence Arissa’s inquiry about zombies.

Not entirely sure she was okay with any of the answers she was getting, she asked what Blaine would do if they met on the night of a full moon.

“Kill you, probably.” He shrugged, not sounding in the least bit sorry about this.

“That’s horrible! Besides, if you tried, I might have to kill you, you know.”

“Of course. Which is why we do all we can to avoid one another on those nights. In fact, unlike the vampires, few of us werewolves go out then. We all have cellars with strong, iron doors, and servants or relatives who are willing to lock us in until the morning.”

Arissa nodded. “Makes sense. But if that’s the case, why were you out roaming the woods that night?”

“Long story.”

She didn’t doubt it, so decided to let it go. “Fine. And why are the doors made of iron, by the way? Why not silver?”

Blaine laughed. “Are you serious? Have you seen the price of silver? Not to mention that the whole silver thing is a lot of nonsense. It doesn’t affect us.”

“Oh. What does? Affect you, I mean.”

“Dark chocolate.”

The girl stared. “Er, what?”

“You heard me.”

“So if someone filled a bullet with dark chocolate, it would kill you?”

“No, Riss. The bullet would kill me all by itself. Any bullet piercing a vital part of our anatomy would do that. Hello? Chocolate, however, ingested in large enough quantities, can cause a toxic reaction that – ”

“Oh! Like a dog!”

He groaned. “You had to say that, didn’t you.”

She shrugged. “My friend has a dog, and told me that chocolate can make it very sick or kill it. Shut down its liver or something. And so okay, a wolf isn’t exactly the same as a dog, but they’re kinda in the same family, aren’t they?”

“Now you’re chocolate,” he muttered, grimacing.

“In other words, you’re killing him.” Kyria chuckled at them and stood. “I do believe we’ve covered all the most important aspects of this, yes? Arissa, dear, you must have realized by this time that most of the characteristics you’ve been given come from the vampire side, but that they’re triggered by the werewolf blood that has mingled with your own and become part of your new genetic makeup.” She took a delicate sip of blood from the cut crystal wine glass that had been by her on the desk. “I must, however, add something to all of this, as is my responsibility as both Priestess and Queen.”

She took another sip and set the glass back down, folded her arms, and regarded them both with a resigned look in her glimmering eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice, Blaine, that when you look at Arissa, there is more than simple mentor-like interest there. And Arissa, it’s quite obvious that you’re drawn to Leander. As for Vlad, he’s what you might call a real ladies’ man, a player. Forget it. What I’m trying to say is that at this stage, a relationship between you, dear Arissa, and any one of these delicious-looking young men could lead to a disastrous future. I would recommend you refrain from throwing yourself at any one or all of them.”

That, Arissa thought, was outrageous. “Hold it – uh, with all due respect, that is. I have never ‘thrown myself’ at anyone and while yes, I find them all attractive, one of them is dead, another is capable of calmly tearing me apart during the full moon – no offense, Blaine – and the other… well, I know the consequences of having kids with another werepire, but mostly, I don’t know him well enough yet to get that close. So please, Kyria, don’t sell me so short, okay? Give me credit for having a little more self-control than that.”

The vampire smiled unexpectedly and put a kind hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I also don’t know you all that well yet, either, so of course I have to err on the side of caution. You understand, I’m sure. Please don’t let my expressions of concern offend you.”

Is this the part where her gentle grasp turns into a squeeze that tears my shoulder out of its socket? “Of course not.” Erring on the side of caution seemed like an excellent idea at that moment. “I didn’t mean it like that. Guess I’ve been through a lot of changes lately and I’m finding it difficult to deal with it all so quickly.” She offered an apologetic smile.

The hand was removed. “Naturally, you poor, sweet thing.”

Arissa almost asked Kyria if she’d ever played Morticia Addams. “Um, is there anything else I should know before I go home?”

“No, I believe we covered all the essential points.” Her smile, while beautiful, was also wide enough to display her fangs in an almost alarming way.

Arissa refused to play Renfield; she’d done enough groveling for the time being. “I’ll remember – thank you.” There. Polite and to the point. No groveling for her, no sir.

“Ah, Socrates.” Kyria was looking over Arissa’s head toward the doorway. “You’ll show our guests out now. Thank you, dear.”

“Of course, Madam.” The erstwhile Greek philosopher gave his Queen a deep bow then gestured the two visitors toward the door.

Arissa could have sworn she saw him give the woman a quick wink before following them into the hallway.

When she and Blaine emerged from the pillars and went out through the gate, she turned to ask him what he was going to do now that their audience with the queen was over, but before she could speak, he pulled her into a tight hug.

She squeaked. It was the best she could do; he was strong, and was crushing her so close she almost couldn’t breathe. A few seconds of this surprising behavior ended when he released her enough to give her a long, deep kiss.

When that was over, she took a step back and stared up at him in minor shock. “Blaine?!”

“You, Arissa Martin, are the first were-anything that has voiced even the slightest objection to something Kyria said, and lived. In fact, you totally reproved her! My god, you’re good!”

She thought about that for less than a second. “Okay, that explains the hug.”

“So you want to know why I kissed you.”

“Again, yes.”

“Oh. Well, as I told you when we were talking to Kyria, I got bitten about forty-five years ago. Since then, I’ve had the most rotten luck finding a girlfriend. You can probably understand why. Anyhow… ” He trailed off and looked at the ground, struggling, she could tell, with how to continue.

She let him struggle.

“Yeah, so. So it’s been a really long time since I’ve even kissed a girl, much less – right. And the fact is, you have the most amazing lips.” He looked back at her and offered a quirky smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“So you helped yourself.”

He blinked. “Oh. Huh. I guess that’s one way to – you’re very clever, you know that?” His smile broadened. “I’d better be careful, or I’ll end up falling in love with you. Ha! Wouldn’t Kyria be thrilled about that!”

“And to think your first impression of me was that I’d make a great entrée.”

He nodded, sobering. “It almost makes me want to thank you for kicking me in the, er, for kicking me.”

She burst out laughing, startling him. “Come on – I’ll give you a ride home.” She pulled out her keys and went to where her car patiently sat rusting across the street.

And like a delighted puppy dog, Blaine followed.

TEN

 

Lunch with mother dear was a situation Arissa had avoided with great success for a long time. But fate, inevitability, and her mother’s relentless determination, had finally caught up with her. So there she was, sitting at the table in her mother’s spotless kitchen, a gourmet-style chicken curry salad glistening at her from what for most people would be good china, but what for Mrs. Martin was everyday service plating.

Three weeks had passed since Arissa’s chat with Kyria, and the full moon was once again approaching. In the meantime, her life had continued along its version of a normal path; school was school, work was work, Leander was suddenly avoiding her. Yup. Life was back to normal. She had chalked the Leander thing up to Kyria, who had most likely threatened him with a severe biting if he didn’t back away from their newest member of the “family.” What bothered her more than the woman’s possible interference was Leander’s compliance. Where was the man’s spine? Ah, well. And then the phone call from her mother that had given her no choice but to agree to a Saturday lunch date. Bleh.

Thus far, the conversation had been typical, unexciting, touching on nothing Arissa found important enough for her mother to have demanded her presence. So she dug into her salad, knowing she wouldn’t be expected to speak with her mouth full, and listened to the woman twittering on and on about Mr. Martin and his annoying little habits, about the neighbor who had purchased a white lapdog that barked at anything that moved or even looked as if it might, about Arissa’s shirt looking like it had been trampled by an army of elephants and why didn’t she ever iron her things…

But then, the meal over at last, the real reason for all of this emerged in the form of a statement. “Trina is making the most disturbing claims about you.”

Arissa wiped her mouth and sat back. She’d been wondering if or when her cousin would say something about that visit during her first full-moon outing. “What else is new?”

“Well, this is, really. She’s never had much nice to say about anyone, but this is completely over the top!”

To act too upset too soon would only make her look guilty, Arissa knew, so she shrugged instead, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“She says you bit her! On the neck, like a vampire!”

Arissa snorted. “A what?”

“A vampire. Says you went to visit her a few nights after her birthday, claiming you had a belated gift for her or something. She isn’t very clear about that part. Anyway, her mother doesn’t remember you being there at all, nor does my brother.”

“Wow. Does she have, like, holes in her neck?” Nope, Vlad had healed those immediately.

“No, of course she doesn’t. Although I’m beginning to think she may have a few in her head.”

“Mom!” Arissa giggled.

The woman grinned. “Well, I mean really! She’s being very insistent, too. In fact, she’s demanding a confrontation with you.”

Arissa’s eyebrows shot upward. “Is she!” She tapped her fingertips on the table for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Maybe it would be a good idea. I’m tired of her side of the family thinking they’re so awesome and perfect. Maybe it’ll do them good to see their darling Trina for the loon she is!”

“Oh, they’ve already seen it. She’s been calling everyone and carrying on about this for nearly a week now.”

Arissa stood and picked up her plate, reaching for her mother’s. “Wait – didn’t you say she’s claiming it happened right after her birthday?” She took the woman’s plate and went to the sink. “Why did she wait so long?”

“Good question. She says she was too terrified to speak up until now, but honestly, everyone thinks she’s suffering from post-birthday depression.”

Giving the plates a quick rinse before putting them into the dishwasher, Arissa kept her back to her mother to hide her grin. Rearranging her features once she was done, she returned to the table and sat. “Is that a real condition now?”

“No, dear. What I mean is that she’s spoiled rotten, and we all believe she’s desperate for more attention now that her birthday is over and no one is thinking about her any more.”

Arissa had to agree. Even if the brat hadn’t been chomped on, she probably would have found something about which to make a scene. The beauty of all this, of course, was that Trina was telling the truth for once, but was being ignored. How fitting! How perfect! How –

“Don’t be smug, dear. It’s unbecoming.” Mrs. Martin got up and went to the coffeemaker. “Would you like a cup?”

“Sure.” Some of her gleeful gratification over her cousin’s dilemma must have made an appearance on her face. Oh, well. Her only real regret about all this was that she couldn’t share it with anyone. Anyone human, at least. Her friends knew about Trina, but how could she possibly explain… no, only Vlad, possibly Leander, would get it, but no one was talking to her these days (Leander and Blaine being “no one”). She had a feeling Vlad wouldn’t have a problem with defying Kyria, and in fact, might even scare her a little. So his lack of contact probably had more to do with him having his own life, and now that he’d told Arissa what she needed to know about what she’d become, his relationship with her would more typically be confined to those lovely, once-a-month jaunts under a full moon. She hoped, though, that they wouldn’t always end with bowling.

Before Arissa left to go home to pursue her need for time-wasting Saturday non-activities, her mother called Lila and said she’d spoken with Arissa, who had agreed that a meeting with Trina would most certainly be in order. After some backing and forthing with Mrs. Martin acting a liaison between Lila and Arissa, it was agreed that they would all meet somewhere public. To that end, Lila said she’d reserve a meeting room at the local coffee shop and restaurant the following evening to try and get this nonsense resolved once and for all.

Because the full moon wouldn’t rise for three more nights, Arissa was fine with the arrangement. She kissed her mom on the cheek, thanking her for lunch, before taking off to pursue more pleasant things.

Lately, she had begun seeking diversion for different reasons than her usual, natural tendency toward laziness and procrastination. It had occurred to her that along with an unbelievably long lifespan came the undeniable difficulties of, well, an unbelievably long lifespan. Sure, she could waste time now to her heart’s content and not feel all that guilty about it, but she would also have to deal with everyone she knew growing old and dying while she was still wasting time and being young. That meant she’d probably have to move elsewhere every ten years or so. It also meant losing those she loved, not making any lasting friendships and changing the name on her online social pages every so often.

Then again, she’d outlive Trina, too. Heh-heh.

The next night, she chose her outfit with care for the meeting-slash-confrontation. On the one hand, she didn’t wish to appear frumpy by wearing torn jeans and a comfortable tee-shirt. She also didn’t want to overdo it by showing up in a formal gown and diamonds – er, cubic zirconium, really. Cocktail dress? Nope. She didn’t own one. Slut-wear? Tempting, but… no.

What finally appealed to her was a well-balanced combination of all those things: her black velvet slacks, black lacy V-neck top with fingerless lace gloves attached to the end of the long sleeves, her ruby pendant hanging on a sparkly dark gold chain, the stone itself large and tear-drop shaped (or blood-drop, as she suddenly saw it), dangly earrings of tiny rubies hanging from her earlobes in an uneven cascade on fine chains of progressive lengths, red and gold hair clips to hold her long hair back at the sides, black stiletto-heeled pumps with ankle straps, and a delicate gold ring, studded with different colored gems, on each finger. She finished her look with pink and dark grey eye shadow, blusher applied to make her cheekbones stand out more than usual, and deep red, wet-looking lip-stain. This ensemble would make most others her age look like hookers or clowns. On her tall, willowy form and with her pale, perfect complexion, it was flat-out sexy. Oh, yeah. She smiled at her reflection as she spritzed herself with a pheromone-enhanced fragrance.

Look out, Trina. Your big, bad werepire cousin is about to have a little chat with you.

When she entered the meeting room a short while later, she almost laughed aloud. Trina, true to drama-queen form, had managed to make herself look like the diametrical opposite of Arissa. She wore a little-girl white blouse with short, puffy sleeves under a pink corduroy jumper that ended just below her knees. Her ankle socks were the same pastel pink – who the heck over the age of three wears ankle socks!? – and she had black patent leather Mary Janes on her feet. Her hair was pulled up into pigtails on either side of her head, and with no makeup or jewelry except for a gaudy, oversized gold cross on a chain around her neck, she looked like a porn star in a pedophile’s dream flick.

Arissa decided to take control of the situation immediately; she was not going to allow this pipsqueak, high-maintenance, egocentric twerp of a cousin get away with playing the sympathy card. “Trina!” she said with a bright smile, shutting the door behind her. “What’s this crap I hear about me biting you? Are you out of your fuzzy little mind?” Which you are, of course.

Trina reaction to this frontal attack was a huge gasp, and she grabbed her mother’s arm.

“Ouch!” Lila hissed through clenched teeth, and tried to pry her daughter’s fingers off.

Both of Arissa’s parents were there, as was her uncle and a couple of other relatives from Lila’s side of the family. “Don’t get upset, Riss,” said Mr. Martin, his voice sounding bored, and Arissa realized he was enjoying this.

“Upset? No, Dad. Shocked is more like it. Where does she get off making up garbage like that? I mean, sure, I couldn’t make it to her birthday dinner, but while I’m sure it was the Event of the Century, it still wasn’t more important than me passing my course.”

Uttering a cry of genuine frustration, Trina pointed an accusing finger at her cousin. “You’re lying! You came to my house, my mother let you into my room, and when you pretended to give me a hug, you bit my neck!”

“I think we should all sit down and take it easy.” Her father gestured at the line of square tables that had been pushed together to accommodate the group.

Smirking as she sat, Arissa addressed her cousin’s back, Trina having headed for the other side of the table. “So I guess that means you’re going to turn into a vampire any minute now, right?”

Trina turned. “No, because you didn’t succeed in killing me! Well, how do you like this, Riss?”

Had she meant for that to rhyme? Whatever. What is she – “What are you doing, Trina? Why are you waving your cross-thingy at me like that?”

The other girl muttered something about not being close enough, rushed back to Arissa, and pressed her crucifix to onto her cousin’s neck.

“Okaaaay,” said Arissa, “and?”

“That must burn! It does burn. Doesn’t it burn your skin?”

For a moment, Arissa almost felt sorry for Trina. But only for a moment, and only almost. “No. It’s cold. Why are you doing that?”

Trina removed the cross and took a step back, a wheel or two apparently trying to turn in her mind.

“And why,” Arissa continued, crossing her arms, “is your hair in pigtails? And what, exactly, are you wearing? What did you do – go shopping in the toddler section of the Salvation Army store?”

“Holy water!”

“Holy shit!”

“Arissa!”

“Aunt Lila!”

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress who had entered unnoticed gave the occupants of the meeting room an expectant twitch of her eyebrows. Their responding glares answered that question in no uncertain terms; she cleared her throat, lowered her order pad, excused herself in a whisper, and left the room.

This little interlude had given Trina time to go back around the table, grab her purse, and take out a small bottle with a blue screw-on top. She twisted it off as she returned to the front of the table and approached Arissa, a smug grin on her face.

Arissa, no longer surprised by anything her cousin did, said, “What’s that? Your hamster’s ashes?”

“I don’t have a hamster.”

“Why? You mean they won’t talk to you either?”

“Bitch. This is holy water!” And with that, she tossed the contents of the open bottle onto Arissa’s front, where it immediately soaked into the lace and disappeared from view.

The ensuing silence was painful. Arissa looked down at her front, lips pursed, and nodded. “Does this mean I’m blessed or something?” she asked without looking up.

“It’s supposed to burn you.”

“Really. Like the crucifix. You know,” she continued, raising her eyes and riveting Trina’s with them, “if you’re trying to start a career as an arsonist, you’re going about it all wrong.”

“Sunlight, then!”

Arissa looked pointedly out the plate glass window that defined the entire wall to her left. “Kinda hard to come by at night. Would you like to meet in the park or something tomorrow? You could bring a magnifying glass, or no… Wait! I get it – maybe I could go with you guys to church or something. You could try smacking me with a Bible, or have the priest chant at me on the front pathway. I mean, you’re trying to prove I’m a vampire, yes?” She sighed and sat down. “I’m hungry. Anyone else want to order?”

“I hate you,” whispered Trina, returning to her chair.

“Why? What did I ever to do you? I mean, if you honestly believe I was at your house and bit you, I guess it’s understandable. Otherwise, no, and I would recommend that you get yourself a really good therapist.”

Everyone turned toward Trina, her mother visibly bracing herself.

No tantrums occurred, no throwing of tableware, no tears, hair tearing, foot stomping or shrieks. Instead, Trina removed the ribbons on the sides of her head to let her ash-blonde hair slide to her shoulders in shiny waves, which she shook back, taking a slow, deep breath.

“I see.” She looked around at them, shaking her head. “I see how it is. Once again, the beautiful Arissa Martin takes control and fools everyone into believing she’s such a great person, so innocent, so incapable of harming a fly. Well, I know better, and that’s all I’m going to say about it. Period. Not another word. Except this – Mother, Father, if you ever let this monster into our house again, I’ll run away from home, and you’ll never hear from me. Ever. I’ll disown you both.” She let her words sink in before adding, “And now, yes, I’d like to order. I, too, am starved.”

ELEVEN

 

 

The night after her meeting with Trina and the family, Arissa decided to go to bed early. She’d had to deal with several irritating customers at her job, and was already in no mood for the full moon festivities awaiting her the next day. At least she wouldn’t need to call off work, but missing class in the morning was a foregone conclusion.

She’d taken her shower and was lounging about in nothing but a towel when the doorbell rang. Exasperated, she didn’t bother to put anything else on before going to the door and yanking it open, ready to be rude as hell to whoever was on the other side.

Reg.

Crap.

She’d almost forgotten his existence – probably a defense mechanism – but his instant leer reminded her of their first encounter, brief as it had been. “Um, you need something?”

His eyes did the typical up-and-down thing, and he smiled. “Oh, I sure do.”

“No.” She shut the door in his face.

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

She opened the door, really mad now. “Look, I’m not – ”

“Yes you are.” He pulled her into an embrace while stepping forward, forcing her back into the apartment, his mouth firmly over hers as his hands undid the towel.

I’m going to kill him, she thought, struggling to pry herself out of his grasp.

He’d lowered her to the floor and was positioning himself between her legs, far too strong for her to fight off, giving her no opportunity to kick him. So she did the only thing she could think of – she relaxed.

“Changed your mind, gorgeous?” he whispered thickly, his hands caressing her as he lowered his mouth to her throat.

“Yes,” she answered. “Oh, yes.”

He uttered a low, mean kind of laugh, removing his hands long enough to start undoing his pants. And that was all she needed.

Raising her right leg, she hooked it over the back of his neck and shoved downward, simultaneously moving out of the way (Vlad had shown her this move, telling her that when she wasn’t a vampire, she might need to defend herself some day). Because he was taken by surprise, she was able to exert enough pressure to smash his nose against the floor, then climb quickly onto his back, grab his hair, and slam his already bloodied face into the wood seven or eight times until he was knocked out. So. Being a werepire had its advantages in many ways, it seemed, greater strength and speed being two of the really good ones.

“I changed my mind, all right,” she growled, getting to her feet. “I’m not going to kill you, Reg; I’m going to make you suffer. Bastard.” She went to the kitchen and grabbed the clothes line her mother had given her, telling her to please attach it somewhere in the bathroom so she could properly care for her underthings. Right. Like that was ever going to happen. There was nothing wrong with the washer and dryer…

Returning with the rope she hog-tied the over-sexed werepire, leaving him on the floor and not bothering to clean up his bloodied features. Then she got dressed and called Kyria. He regained consciousness a short time later, glared up at her through blackened eyes and called her a few choice names. She rolled her eyes and sat on the sofa, watching him without answering as he vainly fought the rope, moaning in pain with the occasional roar of frustration thrown in. How nice that whoever Kyria was sending along was taking a good, long time to get there.

From Arissa’s perspective, this was more entertaining than television.

In the end, Reg was hauled out by several very angry vampires, among them Vlad; as they were leaving, Maya and Leander (who must have gotten past whatever had kept him from talking to Arissa) entered, their eyes wide with shock. Their arrival had nothing to do with what had occurred, she soon learned, but rather had been part of a plan they’d devised for Arissa’s second full-moon event, the timing merely coincidental.

While she wiped Reg’s blood off her floor, they told her of their plan, that Vlad had informed the entire community about how awesome she’d been on her first night, her actions only a little impulsive compared to how they were expected to be, and how well she’d handled everything. True, she’d almost killed a couple of relatives, but Vlad had remedied that, and it all turned out fine in the end.

So now, they said, they wanted her to join them and find out what other werepires did on the nights of the full moon. Kyria having given them her blessing, they’d decided to start getting ready the night before, and hoped it wouldn’t interfere with any plans Arissa might have had.

“But then we get here and see Reg being dragged out – wow, Arissa! I take it he got, like, aggressive with you, right? Well, it’s about time someone gave that creep what he deserved!” Maya took the bloody paper towels from their new werepire friend and making a face, carried them to the garbage can in the kitchen.

Arissa turned to Leander, one eyebrow raised. “Is he known for this sort of thing?”

“Yes and no.”

“What he means,” said Maya, returning from the kitchen, “is that he’s been accused of date rape and a few other obnoxious things, but until now, nobody has been willing or able to prove it.”

“Not sure I get that. Anyhow, yeah. He showed up right as I was getting out of the shower, and stupid me, I answered the door in a towel, never thinking it would be one of us.” She paused, recognizing her choice of pronouns; it seemed she’d fully accepted her new status. “Anyhow, I guess it was too much for his little brain to handle and he went after me. Thank goodness Vlad showed me a few self-defense moves or I’d be… I totally get it now, Leander.” She turned to him, apologetic in a more understanding way this time.

“It really is a problem. So. Let’s forget about Reg and get back to why we’re here. You’re okay, though, yes?” He smiled and went to the window, shoving his hands into his back pockets as he stared up at the sky.

“Yup. Looks like I’m gonna be just fine, too. Ha! Okay, guys, what did you have in mind?” She wanted to ask Leander why he’d been ignoring her and what had changed, but decided it didn’t matter.

“What we have in mind,” said Maya, “is crashing a local meet-up group of completely normal humans who get together once a month in a nearby park to play at being vampires. Their role-played characters participate in a predetermined story line.”

“How does that keep them in the ‘normal’ category?”

“They’re geeks or something. Who cares? The point is, they’re also fair game – no pun intended.”

“I don’t know. I think they’re cool.” Leander shrugged but didn’t turn around. “Of course, they have it mostly wrong about us. Their take on vampires is more Hollywood and literature, but at least none of them has freaked out.”

“Are you serious?” Maya patted the sofa cushion next to her, inviting Arissa to join her. “Far from freaking out, they seem to love it when we show up!”

As she sat, Arissa looked over her shoulder at Leander, who was still staring out at the night. “Wait – don’t you make them forget? I mean, I’m assuming you take sips from them.”

“They’re our personal snack bar, yes.” Leander left the window and took the chair across from the girls. “But instead of erasing their memories about what we did, we implant an image of fellow players from a different group, one that’s slightly renegade, and who have no problem carrying their role-playing into the physical realm. I’m beginning to think they look forward to us showing up.”

“Who is ‘us’? You and Maya?”

“Not all the time.” Maya put her head back, stifling a yawn. “Sometimes Vlad comes with us, but more to monitor what we’re doing. Kyria says it’s okay, but wants to make sure we do it right and never take things too far. Reg came with us once, but he got stupid about it, and Leander had to take him behind a building and sucker-punch him. When he came to, the game was over so we drove him home.” She got a sour look on her face and shook her head. “Can’t stand that guy… ”

“Freya even tried playing once, but she left early, saying she felt silly because she’s so much older than us in appearance as well as actual age.”

Arissa frowned, something occurring to her. “She said she was from Norway. How long ago?”

“She was a Viking.”

“Crap. Really?”

“Really. She was a toddler when she got turned, and is the oldest living werepire at the moment.” Maya giggled. “You should see her in full battle-cry! Lucky for Reg, she wasn’t here tonight, but I hate to think what she’ll do to him if she finds out what happened.”

“Wonder if she still has that axe-thing?” Leander sounded completely serious.

An “axe-thing,” eh? thought Arissa. Maybe she’ll let me borrow it… “Okay, next. Tell me more about this group we’re going to visit tomorrow night.”

So they did.

 

*****

 

Bartholomew Suggs was whining. Annoyed that his game was once again being usurped by interlopers, further annoyed that they didn’t play by the rules, and jealous of how real they managed to look, he stood with his arms crossed, his back against a lamp post. “Come on! Everyone knows vampires don’t bite each other! They bite humans! Why are we all okay with these guys sucking our blood?”

No one answered, because as usual, he told himself, no one was listening. Before the beautiful Leander and his friends had started showing up, the players had been attentive to Bart’s story-telling and instructions for the evening’s plot. Not any longer; and this time Leander had someone new with him who was a total knock-out. Tall, willowy yet curvy, with long auburn hair and incredible blue eyes, full, pouty lips and exquisite features… she was introduced as Riss. She looked the part even more than the two with her, and every member of the role-playing group – of both genders – wanted to get to know her better.

“Of course, it helps to be attractive,” the boy went on, his tone still juvenile despite the obvious fact that he was well into his twenties. “Ooh, look, it’s Leander! Aw, hell. Who cares?”

“Did you say something, Bart?” asked a girl who happened to walk past him at that moment.

“No, of course not, because no one would listen if I did. Run along, Sammie – go play with the faux vampires.”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “What – are you jealous or something? And if they’re fake, what the hell are we? The real thing? Come on, Bart! At least they try to take it to a higher level of reality, so what’s the big deal?”

“Like I said, but which naturally no one heard, vampires don’t bite other vampires!” He could feel himself shifting from whiney to worked-up, which wouldn’t bode well for anybody.

On the other side of the park, Maya and her friends had been talking to the rest of the group – his group, by god – but as he’d given Sammie her marching orders, the lovely dark-skinned Maya had detached herself from the rest and approached him. Upon reaching Bart, she gave him a toothy smile and said, “We don’t?”

Startled, he uncrossed his arms and stood straighter as Sammie took a step back. “You… you don’t what, exactly?”

“Bite other vampires. How would you know?”

“Oh, come on, Maya. Everyone knows that, and… how did you hear me?”

“They also ‘know’ that we sparkle in the sunlight,” she said, not answering his question about hearing him, “get burned by holy water and crucifixes, and can’t eat regular food.” She snorted. “What a load of manure!”

Bart narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Was she role-playing? And another thing – “Aren’t you kinda young to be out this late?”

Her smile grew, and for the first time, Bart saw that her fake vampire fangs didn’t look fake at all. “Hardly,” she said, coming closer.

He gulped. “What, er, I mean, uh, right.”

“You’re cute, Bart,” she whispered, reaching up and resting a hand against his cheek. “And I’m much older than you think.” She raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips.

Was he shocked? Indeed he was. Did he suspect her motives? Indeed he did. Was he also a guy? Indeed, period. Unable to talk himself out of it, he kissed her back, his mind doing weird emotional calisthenics. At some point, he heard Sammie wander off, and at some point later, felt her mouth move away toward the side of his throat, leaving little kisses along its path. And then the strangest sensation, an almost orgasmic pressure against his skin, followed by the release of something… blood? No. Couldn’t be. That would hurt, and this – this – this oh, my. He moaned, hoping she’d never stop doing whatever it was she was doing.

“Oh, Bart, seriously? You nodded off?”

“Huh?” He opened his eyes and realized he was looking at someone’s kneecaps. “What the heck!” Blinking a few times, he looked up.

“Dude, it’s really late, and most of us have gone already. Are you coming, or do you plan to walk home? Sheesh.”

“No, I… what happened? I was – I was talking to Maya about, um, about the game.” He struggled to his feet and looked around. Except for two or three other players, the park was deserted. “I – I think she kissed me.”

His friend barked out an incredulous laugh. “Maya? Wow, I’d like some of whatever you’re smoking! Dude, she’s what – fourteen?”

Bart scowled and looked away. If that had been a dream, it had been the most realistic one he’d ever experienced. Still… “Yeah. You must be right. Let me grab my notebook from the bench and we’ll go.”

“Whatever.”

 

*******

Several miles away, three once-a-month vampires were happily snacking on several glittering couples who had left the local opera house a short time earlier.

When they were done, they headed for the next place on Leander’s itinerary: the Black Light District. Well, that was what everyone called it, he explained in response to Arissa’s “What’s that, now?”

“It’s a series of bars where vamps and werewolves hang out. Except on full-moon nights, of course. Then it’s only vampires. But I figured that since not all of them show up at our meetings, they should meet you.”

“Are they okay with the whole werepire thing?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Maya shrugged. “Besides, we go there a lot and no one ever seems offended or upset with us.” She grabbed Arissa’s hand, Leander taking the other, and they ran off into the night as only they could.

The names of the bars were innocuous – the first was “Night Bite,” which could as easily have been the name of an all-night diner. The one a few doors down had a single name, “Van’s,” and the remaining two along the street were “The Dragon Club,” and “Murphy’s,” respectively.

Arissa was taken aback somewhat by the last one. She understood how the others had names that could have been code for vampirish things (“Van’s” for Van Helsing, “The Dragon Club” for Dracula, and of course, “Night Bite” spoke for itself), but “Murphy’s”? Really?

The Night Bite was almost empty. Most of the patrons were sipping from bottles of what looked like red ale. She leaned sideways and whispered to Maya, “Is there blood in their beer?”

“Of course. And don’t bother whispering, Riss – they can hear you anyway.” She giggled.

“Oh, right.”

“Some of them are drinking regular alcohol with a blood chaser.” This was Leander, who was looking around, lips pursed.

The music confused Arissa - coming from a source other than the digital juke box on one of the walls, the melody was a lot more subtle than any she’d heard before in a bar.

Of the ten or so individuals seated here and there, only one had bothered to look up when the three werepires entered. He’d given them a heavy-lidded stare and gone back to his conversation with a woman in a red sequined pants suit.

Wow, thought Arissa, taking in the sparkling outfit, what horrible taste! “Um, Leander? Not – ”

“I know. Let’s go next door.”

Van’s wasn’t much better, which prompted Arissa to wonder if these two were patronized more by werewolves than vampires. They only stayed a few seconds before heading out to The Dragon Club which was several doors down on the other side of the street.

Two bleary-eyed vampires blinked at them a few times and turned away.

Back outside, Maya hesitated. “Do you think it’s even worth the effort to try Murphy’s? I mean, no one seems to be out partying tonight. Of course, it is Tuesday.”

“Well, it’s right here,” Leander pointed out, waving at a dark green door across the street. “May as well check it out. If no one’s there, we’ll go do something else.”

Arissa snickered. “I could say it’s real dead in those bars, but you’d probably smack me.”

Leander stopped walking and turned toward her. “Yes. Yes, I probably would.” He took a deep breath and continued across the road.

There’s a lot to be said about being Irish. Ask any Irishman. Ask his friends, too, even the ones who aren’t Irish. When the three werepires opened the unremarkable green door, they stepped into a remarkable world. It looked like everyone who should have been at the previous three bars had decided to come here instead. The music was loud, the driving rhythms of classic rock tickling the newcomers’ feet, making them want to move, stomp, be part of the party.

“Wow!” Arissa said, knowing only the supernatural beings could hear her over the din. Around her, the patrons were laughing, some dancing, all of them drinking and holding top-of-their-lungs conversations. Without waiting to see what her two companions wanted to do, she strode to the bar.

“Ah! Someone new!” The bartender had said this in a modulated yell, grinning. “Welcome to Murphy’s! Are you here to get drunk or be drunk from?” He laughed a little wildly.

Is he testing me to see if his words would send me screaming out into the night? “That depends!” she yelled back. “Are there any humans around?” Her laughter mimicked his, and he took a step back.

“Oh! Um, no! Not for that past hour or so!” Despite the obligatory exclamation points, his tone was conversational. “So you’re a vampire, too, then, eh?!”

“For tonight!”

“For – OH! So you’re a WEREPIRE, then!” Mere italics wouldn’t have made him heard over the clamor. She didn’t bother to point out that she didn’t need him to do that.

“You got it! Name’s Riss!”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Connor! What’ll you have?!”

All this shouting was starting to get on her nerves, so she ordered a vodka and tonic without wasting time to consider what she was in the mood for, figuring the sooner she got her drink, the sooner she could stop trying to talk.

“Blood chaser?!”

“Sure! Is it fresh?!”

“Are you kidding?! We’d lose our license otherwise! You must be REALLY new!”

“I am!”

He smiled and nodded, put down his bar-towel, and went off to make her drink.

Five minutes later she was snuggled into a booth with Leander and Maya sitting across from her. To her surprise, she found the combination of blood and her cocktail pleasant, and was soon ready for another.

They relaxed, enjoyed their drinks, and watched the full-time vampires having fun around them. No one paid them any attention for a while, but after her third round of drinks, Arissa began to sense someone staring at her from the bar. Because she hadn’t been facing him, it took a few minutes for her instincts to sense him gazing at her profile, and she finally turned her head enough to see who was making her skin tingle.

At first he stayed where he was, not even trying to look away. But then he shrugged, got up, and approached the booth. Looking like someone close to Arissa’s age, the man was easily six-foot-five with a powerful build, handsome features, dark brown hair cut into attractive shaggy spikes, and as he got closer, she could see his eyes were – his eyes were – not shimmering. Not even a little. His pupils were undeniably round while his irises were hazel with more light green than brown.

“Who are you?” he asked, frowning down at Arissa. That was it. No pick-up line, no introduction, nothing.

She frowned back up at him. “My name? Or my species, maybe? Not sure what you’re asking.” The alcohol was beginning to affect her, she realized, but not nearly as much as it would have had she still been human.

“Both, I think. I mean, you seem to be a vampire, yet you have the eyes of a werewolf, but not quite. If you feel like giving me your name, that’d be okay, too.” He shrugged but never took his eyes from hers.

“Tell you what.” She put her glass on the table and turned sideways to see him better. “Tell me your name and why a non-vampire would be hanging out in a bar like this, and I’ll let you sit down so I can answer you.”

“Okay. My name is Finn Murphy. I hope that also answers your second requirement for a seat at your table.”

Leander groaned.

“What?!” Arissa had made the connection, but it hadn’t occurred to her that her friends already knew this person. Well, not until Leander’s muffled outburst. Oddly enough, despite her enhanced hearing, the groan was the only thing she’d been able to discern over the noise. That, and Finn’s voice. How strange…

She patted the bench and the enigmatic young man sat. “Do you own the bar, or are you just related to the owner?”

“Both, really. My grandfather built it, my dad maintains is, and I’ll be inheriting it.”

“Wow. Three generations. But why can I hear you so well?”

“I’m not human.”

She screamed.

“What the hell?” Finn gave a start and slid back a few inches. “I scare you? You?”

“She does that a lot,” explained Leander. “Sorry. I’m Leander, by the way. I know who you are, but didn’t have any reason to bother you before.”

“Bother me?”

“Well, yeah. With introducing myself and all that. Figured you had your own friends.”

“Oh. Not really.” He stared around the room for a moment before continuing. “They all know me, naturally, but I’m off-limits – some deal my father made with the head vampire guy. If any of them even took a sip, it would be really, really bad.”

“For whom?” asked Maya.

“Everyone.”

Having recovered somewhat from an exaggerated sense of shock brought on by too much vodka, Arissa said, “How come? What would happen? And what are you, anyway?”

“He’s a Sidhe.” An older man had come to the table and was wiping his hands on his apron. “I’m his father and happen to overhear that last question. Just wanted to clear things up.”

“He’s a she?” It was Arissa’s turn to back away, or slide away, given the confined nature of the booth. “Huh. Looks pretty masculine to me.”

“No, no, a Sidhe.” The elder Murphy smiled and spelled it for her. “A Gaelic word that confuses a lot of people, darlin’. A Sidhe is an Irish creature, supposedly of myth.”

“I should know that. Come to think of it, I have seen that word, but never knew how to pronounce it – thought it was ‘Sid’ or something.” Arissa giggled suddenly with no idea why.

“Okay, but how does that work with the whole vampire and biting thing?” Maya sat forward, head tilted.

“Well, now,” said Mr. Murphy, who had somehow acquired an accent, “the blood of a Sidhe is magical, you see, and if ingested by a dead thing, will cause it all sorts of difficulties. For instance, the vampire will start breathing again, its heart pumping faster and faster until it explodes, which will cause irreversible, final death. No getting up again once that happens.” He shook his head.

Arissa thought he looked less saddened by this fact than maybe he should have been. After all, vampires were keeping his bar operating, weren’t they? But then without them, the humans would return and the bar would remain open anyway. “So biting your son would cause death for a vampire.” Arissa took another sip of her drink. “And what would happen to him?”

“Why, he’d turn into a vampire, of course – and a mighty angry one, I might add. One incapable of dying but with only insanity and fury to drive him through the ages.”

“Which means what?” Now Leander was leaning forward.

“An insane creature that would murder everyone in his path, but who himself could not be killed? What do you think that means, boy?” Mr. Murphy raised a bushy eyebrow.

“It means we’d all be in serious trouble,” said Arissa.

“Why did you say you should know about the Sidhe?” asked Finn.

“Because I’m Irish.”

“Are you now?” Mr. Murphy gave her an odd look. “And you’re not really a vampire, either, am I right?”

“Well, not usually. I mean, tonight, yeah, but that’s only because there’s a full moon.”

“Aren’t you a bit confused?” asked Finn. “That’d be a problem for a werewolf.”

“Exactly.”

Two sets of Irish eyebrows rose.

“No, see, I’m not a vampire and not a werewolf. I’m both. I’m a werepire. So are they.” She waved vaguely toward her friends. “Your bartender knows what we are.”

Finn said that he’d never heard of such a thing before. “I wonder what would happen if you bit me.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Let’s see… well, I suppose that would depend on when. Not that I’d feel inclined to suck your blood on non-full-moon days. But if I did… I don’t think it would matter then, would it? But if I took a sip now, I’d probably have the whole exploding-heart situation, and that would really suck!” A second later she heard herself and burst out laughing. “Oh, I did not just say that!”

“You’re an unusual young lady, er – you have a name, I believe?”

She stopped laughing long enough to tell him what it was, and then went back to being mildly hysterical.

“Right. You’re an unusual young lady, Arissa Martin. How old are you?”

Getting herself under control, she finished her drink and told him.

“So you’re only a year and a half younger than my appar… than me? How long do, werepires, is it? How long do werepires live?”

“Hundreds of years,” she said, “unless we get smushed by a really big rock or something.” She hiccupped and knocked her glass over, the effects of the liquor finally taking full effect. “Hey, now we know about the heart problem thingy. What about kids? What if you and I had children? What would they be like? Don’t tell me,” she rushed on before anyone could answer. “I think I know. They’d be redheads with blue eyes and oval pupils, fangs, the ability to do magic, and a natural immunity to alcohol!”

Everyone stared at her for several seconds.

“Shut up.” She scowled and passed out.

TWELVE

 

 

Waking up to find people watching her was beginning to become what her mother would call “old hat.” Why she would call it that, or what hats of any age had to do with familiarity was anybody’s guess. But there it was, and there they were – Maya, Leander and Vlad.

For the first time since her bizarre transformation, Arissa didn’t scream when she saw them. She scowled and sat up instead. Vlad was perched on the edge of the bed by her feet, Maya on the chair near the window, and Leander was standing a few feet away.

“Am I missing someth- ow!” She put a hand to her head, which had begun to throb. Simultaneously, her stomach lurched and she doubled over, breathing carefully to keep herself from throwing up.

“Werepire hangovers can be awful,” said Leander. “We wanted to be here for you when you came to.”

She was in her room with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, but suspected her new friends had managed to get her home safely, probably using her key to enter the apartment. The thought of them crawling up the side of the building with her in tow and bursting in through one of the windows didn’t make sense, after all.

“Here.”

Something that felt like a glass was shoved into the hand not clutching her brow and she opened one eye to see what it was. Ah, a glass. Yes. With some kind of liquid that swirled pink. Far better, she thought groggily, than a glass of fresh sand, eh?

“Drink it, please,” said Vlad sounding polite and only a little exasperated.

She sniffed. “Bleh.”

“Just drink it, Riss.” Maya looked upset.

“Mph.” Arissa raised the glass to her lips, straightening somewhat, and took a sip. Straight vodka and blood. Why had she thought this was a delicious concoction when they were at the bar? Yuck!

“Drink it all, my dear.”

Vlad. Grrr. She forced herself to swallow the rest, and a moment later, her vision un-blurred. “I asked you not to call me that,” she told the vampire. “Thanks, though – it’s helping.”

Everyone obviously relaxed, but she couldn’t understand why they’d been so tense in the first place. “Hey, I’m all right, guys. What’s the big deal?”

“Your hangover, if untreated, could easily have sent you into a kind of undead shock.”

Arissa was sure Leander had been speaking English, but none of what he’d said made any sense. “You say ‘untreated’ as if a hangover was an illness or something. And what the hell is ‘undead shock’? You suddenly become unalive or something?”

Maya, despite the serious atmosphere, giggled.

“No, Riss.” Leander sighed and came closer. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s like this – when a werepire gets drunk, the blood ingested with the alcohol prevents the undead person from feeling the effects of the drink for a long time, but because of the blood in the alcohol, the alcohol in your blood becomes almost toxic. This would kill a living human, but because you’re already dead, that state is heightened, making you, oh, I don’t know, super-dead, I suppose. But you’re still alive in an undead kind of way, so to handle it, your body and mind shut down, and you spend the day vomiting, unable to think or speak, but you feel the pain of the constant barfing and the temporary atrophy of every vein in your head, which gives you one hell of a headache to boot. Understand?”

Boots and hats. Barfing death… awesome. “No. If that’s what happens, why would any of us drink in the first place? And it sounds like a regular hangover to me. But this yucky crap,” and she raised the glass at him, “is the whole hair-of-the-dog thing, right? So if you knew this, why did you take me out to a bar?”

“We didn’t know how you handled your liquor, and wanted to find out.” Maya got up and stretched. “Sorry.”

For some reason, Arissa found this funny rather than cold-hearted, and she gave the other girl a twisted smile. “Okay.” She slid backward and sat up more so she could rest against the headboard. “I suppose I should stay in bed for a while.”

“How do you feel now?” asked Vlad.

“Better but not great.”

He nodded. “As I thought. And yes, stay in bed. I called your job, incidentally, and told them you were terribly ill. Your boss sounded annoyed, but not like he felt inspired to fire you or anything.”

“Sweet.” She blinked a few times as a wave of sleepiness washed through her. “Wait – how did you get my work number?”

Infuriating in his way, Vlad merely shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You probably know my underwear size, too,” she mumbled, sliding down under the covers again. For some reason, staying awake was becoming nearly impossible.

“Five.”

“Huh?” Did he just accurately tell me my underwear size? she wondered, too tired now to muster up the outrage she knew she ought to feel about this.

“Sleep well, Arissa, dear.”

“I asked you nnnnn…”

 

*******

 

Leander gave her shoulder a gentle shake but got only a soft snort in response. “She’s out cold.”

“Let’s let her sleep it off, then, shall we?” Vlad stood. “Maya, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay with her. Just a precaution, you understand, because I think she’ll be fine. Still, if there are any problems before she fully recovers and no one is here to help her, Kyria will have my head.”

“That’s fine. I had nothing important to do today, except school.” Maya gave him a happy grin – she hated school, and everyone knew it.

“Thank you, my dear.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, waved Leander to follow him, and went out.

 

*******

 

Upon opening her eyes, Arissa found her bedroom vampire- and werepire-free. Her recollection of what had happened the last time she’d woken up was vague at best. Still, she knew her job situation had been covered, and honestly didn’t care about missing class at this point. She also remembered how awful she’d felt, and was delighted that all the nasty effects of her full-moon binge had worn off. She got up, removed her clothes (which by now were horribly wrinkled from being slept in), took a quick shower, and went into the kitchen. Her goal was her laptop to find out how long she’d been asleep. Thursday. So she slept for a full day and a half. As she went to the counter to make a pot of coffee, she saw a bright pink sheet of notepaper sitting beside the coffee maker that had no business being there. She didn’t own stationery, much less anything in pink.

“And how did you get in?” The handwriting was what could be called spidery, but with a touch of praying-mantis thrown in to distinguish it from Kyria’s. Arissa frowned and picked it up, going to the window to squint at it in the brighter light.

“My loft, two o’clock. Bring a notebook and pen. - Vlad”

“Absolutely, Your Friggin’ Majesty!” She balled up the paper and tossed it into the stainless-steel trash container next to the sink.

“My God!”

Arissa screamed.

“Well for the love of – go get dressed, young lady!”

Arissa glared. “What are you doing here, mother, and how did you get in without me hearing you?” She put her fists on her naked hips and glared some more.

Mrs. Martin closed her eyes. “Kindly put something on, Arissa.”

“Why? This is my home, and if you insist on barging in without warning – or knocking – you can just deal with what you find!”

“Fine! I apologize! Now please get dressed. I can’t talk to you like this.”

Grumbling the whole way, Arissa returned to her room, emerging a few minutes later in a pair of jeans and a large tee with a wide neckline. One side had slid off her left shoulder, giving her a casual air her mother would no doubt despise.

“Well. That will do, I suppose,” said her mother. “I called your job this morning to see if you wanted to meet for lunch, and was told you were very sick. They said you had called out yesterday, and probably wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. You don’t look sick to me, Arissa. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. You came over here, why? To see if I was okay?”

“Why else?”

“Hmm.” Oh, I don’t know, the girl thought with unreasonable sarcasm, maybe because you’re terminally nosy. “Thanks. I appreciate that, but as you pointed out, I’m not sick. I didn’t feel like working this week, is all.”

“Why not? This isn’t like you, dear. And what about school?”

“What about it?”

“Practicing being rude again, are we?”

Arissa looked away, thinking hard. This kind of thing was going to have to stop. Despite the occasional acrimonious exchange between her and her mother, she genuinely loved the woman. Not her habits or attitudes, necessarily, but her. After all, she really had done a good job of raising her, and while her unwelcome intrusions always went hand-in-hand with bad timing, Arissa believed she meant well. Maybe. Whatever. “Mom, we have to talk.”

“I should say so!”

“Coffee?”

Mrs. Martin narrowed her eyes. “Coffee, is it? That always means something of major consequences is about to be discussed, and don’t think I don’t know that. All right.”

Five minutes later, they were seated at the small kitchen table, the lovely aroma of Columbia’s best legal export wafting playfully around the room. Arissa finished stirring cream and sugar into hers, took a sip, and sat back. “Remember the day you came over and found that blood-stained shirt?”

“I do, indeed. Did you throw it away?”

“Mother! This is not about my clothing, so please try to stay focused here. And yes. Anyway, it didn’t get stained quite the way I described.”

“That sounds troubling, dear. Whatever do you mean?”

So Arissa told her. Everything: the werewolf assault and subsequent vampire attack, her death and re-animation, her new status as a werepire. And since this left the woman speechless, it seemed the right time to include details – Leander, Kyria, the interesting meetings that involved a strange society of monsters that somehow got along and felt warm fuzzies for the mini-monsters they had accidentally created. She explained how being a werepire worked, and even confessed, finally, to having bitten her cousin and aunt. When she was done, she drank some more coffee and waited for her mother’s reaction.

Mrs. Martin’s reaction consisted of her finishing her own coffee, getting up, collecting her purse and jacket from the living room, and heading for the front door. Before going out, she turned and said, “If you aren’t really dead, you will be. I will personally throttle you for throwing such a pack of insane lies at me, for imagining me to be stupid enough to buy such crap. This is the final insult, Arissa. I don’t know what else to say.”

Desperate now – more than anything, she wanted her mother to believe her – she came closer. “Look at my eyes, mother. At the pupils. Do they look normal to you?”

The woman peered up, her angry scowl slowly dissolving into something more perplexed. “What – what’s wrong with them? They’re the wrong shape!”

“Exactly. That’s from the werewolf poison. It changed my DNA. And if you still don’t believe me, wait until the next full moon and I’ll show you some other changes you’ll have a hard time with. Oh, yeah, and there’s this.” She ran into the kitchen.

To her mother, the girl looked like a smear of color that sped away into the other room at a horrifying speed, the movement so unnatural the woman almost fainted.

“Can a regular human do that?” asked Arissa from the table where she was once more seated.

Mrs. Martin eventually joined her daughter. “So – so you’re… you’re dead?” Her voice was shaking and tears had begun glistening in her reddening eyes.

“Yes, mother, but well, yes. Only as you can see, I’m also kind of alive, and will live for a crazy long time now, if that’s any consolation.” She gave the woman a hopeful look.

“Oh, my.” She sat down with a brief, light laugh. “Look at me – my knees almost gave out! Of course, we all know I’m too darned proper to let myself fall. That would have been too undignified. Heh!”

“I love you, mother.”

A tear spilled down the older Martin’s cheek and she took her daughter’s hand. “I love you, too, darling.”

THIRTEEN

 

 

“Does this mean we can all meet her now?” Vlad crossed his legs and sat back on the sofa.

“Absolutely not. You’ll scare the snot of out her without even trying.” Arissa sighed. She was at Vlad’s, having convinced her mother to go home and stop worrying. When she got to the vampire’s loft, she’d felt obligated to tell him what had happened, and to her surprise, he wasn’t upset.

“Well, it’s always best if our loved ones know,” he told her, explaining his reaction. “After all, we can usually trust them more than anyone else, yes? So! Now to why I asked you here. Open your notebook, please.”

She shrugged and complied, curious. “Ready.”

“Good. I am going to complete your education about the world to which you now belong.”

Arissa executed a silent “Yippee!” and uncapped her pen.

“The topic is categories,” Vlad began. “There are five of these, and the first one is the weres.”

“Weres, as in ‘werewolf’?”

“Exactly.” He sat forward. “Under the title word, ‘Weres’ you’ll make a list. Number One is Naturals. Got that?”

She nodded, scribbling.

“Now under ‘Naturals,’ list the following: Canines, Felines, Piscines, and Avians.”

Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble. “Okay.”

“Under ‘Canines’ you’ll write a sublist as follows: Wolves, Foxes, Coyotes, Dingoes, Domestic Dogs.”

Scritch, scribble, scribble, scritchery, scratch-scritch. “Got it.” Her hand was starting to ache.

“Great. Under felines, simply put ‘Wild Cats,’ under which you’ll list large, medium and small, and ‘Domestic Cats.’ Under – oh, sorry. I’ll wait. You know you can write like you can run, by the way.”

“I can? Will it still be legible?”

“Do you crash into things when you run?”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath, thought about writing quickly, and inside of a second, the list was done. “Wow!”

“Wow it is. All right. Let’s get this finished. Under Piscine, write Sharks, Morays, Cephalopods, Blue Catfish, and Behemoths. The subcategory is Ocean Mammals, under which you’ll list Orcas, Narwhals, Belugas and Dolphins. And then under ‘Avians’ you’ll put Owls, Eagles, Vultures, Ostriches and… well, this one is incredibly rare. Actually, I know of only one case.”

“One case of what?”

“Well, a man I once knew, many years ago now, was a werekeet.”

“A what?”

“He – he was nipped by an undead parakeet, and when in the presence of cats, he would transform into a – Arissa? Are you all right?”

The girl had dropped her notebook and doubled over, laughing so hard she wasn’t breathing. Not that she needed to. Tears began coursing down her face, her skin slowly going purple, and she slid off the chair. Clutching her stomach, she continued her silent hysterics, trying to picture a man transforming into a parakeet…

Ten minutes later, Vlad having gone off to the kitchen area where the part of her brain that was still functional heard the sound of running water and dishes being plunked about, followed by the sound of ice cubes being dropped into a glass and some kind of liquid being poured over it, Arissa drew in a deep, raspy breath and sat up. “Oh – my – God!” she shrieked. “How does something like that even work?! Holy cow! And how did the stupid bird… ” she started laughing again, “how does a parakeet become… whatever it is that can – oh, my God!” She keeled over again, only this time her hilarity was audible.

Vlad sighed, sat down with what her nose told her was bourbon, and stared off, sipping now and again, as Arissa got herself under control.

“You know,” she said a while later, her voice faint as she got back on the chair, “I can deal with the whole were-coyote, and werecat, even the idea of werefish, but a little para- ”

“Arissa, don’t you dare start again or we’ll never get through this.”

“Sorry.” Another snicker escaped, but she forced herself to stay sober this time.

“Thank you. Let’s move on. Next to each main descriptor in the Were category, put the trigger – that which triggers the transformation.” He then told her the obvious one – the moon – which of course pertained to all the Canines.

For the Felines, the trigger was the presence of any lactating mammal. Before Arissa could lose it over that one, he hastily explained the Piscine trigger, which was similar to the Canine one – the monthly tide shifts due to lunar activity. For the Avians, the trigger was, as he’d started to explain earlier, the presence of regular cats.

Once again, he swiftly changed the subject. “On to the next category!” He had her write the word “Undead,” and gave some details about the Vampire genre that she already knew, and some she didn’t. No major surprises, though. Included in this group were Zombies, which she already knew should belong there.

The third category, however, was disconcerting. This was the Shape-Shifter group, and included chupacabras, dragons (“Dragons?!” she exclaimed, stunned), Skinwalkers and Shamans. Category Four listed and defined Faerie Folk, among them the Sidhe, and the fifth group held other-dimensional and off-world beings. Most of these were harmless, but those that weren’t were horrific, like the incubus and succubus varieties. And yes, she was told, the Lizard People were real.

When he stopped talking, she looked over her notes, realizing she’d been given a written compendium that would make any believer in the supernatural proud. Or worried. “Is that it?”

“That’s it. Now you know what to look for; eventually, you’ll learn to recognize most of them immediately.”

Not sure she wanted to, she nonetheless nodded and thanked him. “So let me ask you a question, even though it has nothing to do with what you just told me.”

He shrugged and lounged back in the sofa again.

“What should I do about Reg, my mom, and Leander? Oh, and… crap, I can’t remember his name right now, but the Irish guy I met in Murphy’s?”

“Finn.”

“Yeah! That’s the one! And Blaine.”

“That’s a rather odd list, Arissa. What are you curious about?”

She closed her notebook, smirking, as she said, “Well, Reg is obvious. The guy tried to – he’s a creep. I hurt him and hope I get a chance to do more damage one day. But he’ll probably want to kill me now, so what should I do about it?”

“Stay away from him, mostly. We’ll take care of the rest.”

She wasn’t at all sure what he meant by that, but decided not to ask. “My mom is another one. Now that I’ve told her what happened to me and what I’ve become, is there anything else I should do?”

“Not yet, but one day, perhaps.”

“Okay. I can respect that. What about Leander?”

“What about him?”

Arissa, feeling uncomfortable for the first time, looked at the floor. “I really like him, Vlad. But I know it wouldn’t be wise for us to, well, you know. And I like Blaine, too, although not as much. Trouble is, they both seem to like me. And then this Finn shows up and really throws a wrench into the machine.”

“Why not date Finn, keep Blaine as a good friend, and explore the possibilities with Leander?” He stood up. “I find you attractive as well, you know. But even though I could probably compel you to sleep with me, it wouldn’t be fair or right. Not to mention the fact that while the sex would be real, the feelings wouldn’t be. So I’ll leave you alone on that score. In the meantime, you should talk to Leander, see if you two can work this out together.”

Well! she thought. That was surprising! Good advice, but unexpected, especially the part about him liking her. She nodded, agreeing, and thanked him.

“Good.” He put out a hand. “We’re done for today, then. Let me walk you to the door.”

She took his hand, grinning, and got to her feet. “That was some class!”

He chuckled. “You handled it better than most, I must say.” They were at the other side of the huge room now, and he pressed the button for the elevator. “You’re a good student, Arissa.”

She started to thank him, but then couldn’t. He had taken her suddenly by the shoulders and kissed her. He kept kissing her until the elevator door opened, then released her with a casual smile. “Thank you, my dear – I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I wondered how it would feel and now I know. I promise it won’t happen again.”

She was speechless.

He gestured toward the open elevator, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh.” She stumbled in, unable to stop staring at him, unable to function, until the elevator opened again and she was downstairs.

As she got into her car, she gave herself a mental shake, blinked, and said, “I’m going to hurt him.” With that, she straightened her shoulders, started the engine, and drove home.

 

*******

 

Finn Murphy. Vlad had recommended she try dating him. At the moment, she wasn’t talking to Vlad. In fact, she was avoiding the enigmatic vampire with a vengeance. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take his advice.

Two days had passed since her “lesson” and she’d endured some pretty bizarre dreams as a result, the worst of which involved her mother walking in on her and Vlad in the midst of a steamy tryst in her bed. Like that wasn’t nightmarish enough, the dream continued with the woman suddenly turning into a bright yellow parakeet that fluttered over them, threatening to bite Vlad on the butt with her razor-sharp little beak. As Arissa screamed for the crazy werekeet to leave them alone, the undead bird hovered over them and started scolding her in a disturbing Tweety-Bird voice.

Arissa had awoken in a cold sweat.

But now it was Saturday, she had somehow survived the dreams, and wanted nothing more than to go relax somewhere, maybe try something new. Like a Sidhe. Hmm. And why not? He’d certainly come across as highly interested in her, if memory served. Or not. After all, she’d been more than a touch inebriated at the time. Still.

That afternoon she called Maya and asked if the girl wanted to go with her to Murphy’s. “I know they won’t serve you because you look so young, but – ”

“No, they will. The bartender knows me, and knows how old I really am.”

“Oh! Well, okay, then. Want to go?” She’d already picked out her outfit.

“Er, is there any particular reason for choosing Murphy’s?” asked Maya.

The girl was far too observant… “Yeah. Heh. I think you know why.”

Maya giggled. “He is awfully attractive. I wish he’d been checking me out instead, but I get why he wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on, Riss. You’re beautiful, hot, the right age… I know I’m cute and all, but let’s face it – I’m fourteen in appearance and won’t look older for a long time to come. I’m okay with it, though.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. What time will you pick me up?”

They agreed to head out at about nine o’clock. Nothing too bizarre happened during the earlier hours to put a damper on Arissa’s good mood, not even the very odd phone call from her mother who had said, “So how’s death treating you, dear? Is everything all right?” To which Arissa had replied that yes, things were great. Her mother had answered, “That’s nice,” and hung up. Weird.

She’d chosen one of the outfits that would have sent her family into horrified hysterics – black skinny-jeans, and a dark red top that clung to her curves. It had a sheer yoke and sleeves of fine netting, to which she added the ruby pendant necklace and matching dangly earrings. She put on some rings, a few bracelets, subtle makeup, wound her hair into a messy bun, tucked her feet into strappy black stilettos, and posed in front of her mirror. Satisfied with the overall effect, she grinned and went out.

When she and Maya (who looked lovely in champagne-colored satin slacks and a cream, low-cut top) walked into the bar, more than one head turned in their direction. She ignored the leers and looked around for Finn. At first, all she could see were a bunch of fangs and brooding eyes, a suggestive grin or two, but no one familiar. She was about to give up and try to find an empty booth, when someone at the far end of the bar looked up from a conversation he was having with a woman who was practically glowing with vamp-aura.

Finn.

And every bit as attractive as she remembered him to be. She gave him a quirky smile, shrugged, and headed away for the booths. Hoping that had been enough of an invitation, she and Maya – after navigating past the gauntlet of hot stares – found a seat and got comfortable.

“So what’ll we do if he comes over here?” the younger-looking girl asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. Guess it depends on what he says.”

A waitress appeared beside the table. “Know what you want? Well-drinks are half price for the next twenty minutes, and all beers except those on tap are a dollar tonight.”

“I’d like a sombrero, please,” said Maya. “And before you ask, I’ve been around for over twenty-one years.”

The waitress leaned down and sniffed. “Huh. What are you?”

“What are you?” asked Arissa, surprised by the young woman’s behavior.

“She’s a Sidhe,” Maya supplied.

“Well, I can see she’s a sh… oh. You mean a Sidhe.”

“Like Finn.”

“And you,” said the waitress, “are a… werepire? Really?”

“Yup. Both of us.”

“Ah. And you know Finn?”

“Only for a few minutes,” said Arissa. “We met him the other night, but I only talked to him for maybe a minute or so.”

“More like five before you passed out,” said Finn, sliding in beside Maya.

Arissa felt a blush, shocking herself. “Thanks for the reminder.”

The waitress laughed. “It’s okay. We get that a lot in here. So what’re you having?”

Maya repeated her request; Arissa ordered a gin on the rocks – no chaser this time – and Finn asked if he could get a Harp.

“You’re going to play music?” Arissa gave him a crazy look.

He laughed. “No, princess, it’s a kind of lager beer.”

The waitress scribbled the orders and turned to leave, but turned back and addressed Arissa. “Don’t bite him.”

“What? Oh, right. No worries – I can’t. Not tonight, anyway.” She gave an exaggerated smile that showed her obvious lack of fangs of any kind.

“Interesting species,” murmured the waitress, and left.

“So. Rissa, is it?” asked Finn, leaning a little closer across the table.

“No, Riss, but I like that. My full name is Arissa, so it works.”

“Good. And… Maya?” He said this one more slowly, hesitant.

“Yes!” The girl’s mocha complexion got a teensy bit rosier.

“Well!” Finn sat back. “Looks like I get to spend time with the two most beautiful women in the bar!”

Ah, the glib tongue of the Irish! thought Arissa, who had been around that kind of silly flattery all her life. “And we get to spend time with the hottest Irishman for miles!”

He nodded. “That’s right – you’re Irish, too. So tell me, what brings you two here again so soon?”

“Well, since I didn’t get to fully enjoy myself the last time, I thought I’d start fresh tonight.” She shrugged.

“Glad you did.” He was holding her with his eyes, and she allowed it.

Maya cleared her throat. “Be right back,” she murmured and got up.

By the time the waitress returned with their drinks, Finn had made it clear he was highly interested in getting to know Arissa better. Much, much better. He said he’d been deeply impressed with her sense of humor, intelligence, and, yes, her physical charms that other evening. All this despite her obvious state of incandescence at the time. He was also curious to know what a relationship with a werepire would be like.

“Are you asking me out?” She raised an eyebrow, her eyes never leaving his. She was more attracted to him at that moment than she’d even been to Leander.

“I am.”

“Do you think it’s safe?”

“Can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be.”

He must be right, she reasoned. After all, even Vlad had suggested she date him. “Nor can I.”

He reached across the table and took one of her hands, brought it to his lips, and brushed her palm with a gentle kiss.

Arissa didn’t know if it was his Sidhe nature, or if the chemistry between them had simply been right, but when his sensuous mouth touched her skin, something inside of her caught fire and melted. Suddenly, she didn’t care if Maya had another way home or not. Everything in her yearned to be as close to this Irishman as she could get, as soon as possible, for as long as possible…

A shapely brown arm passed between them and picked up the glass that had been left next to Finn. A sweet young voice said, “Uh, I’ll call one of my friends for a ride home.”

Footsteps were heard walking away from the booth. Music blared from the jukebox on the far side of the room. Loud laughter exploded in a nearby booth. A voice said, “Would you like anything else?”

A moment later, they were both standing, and somehow they were in Arissa’s car. Then, somehow, they were in her apartment and he kissed her again, but this time on the mouth, and her reaction was a million times more intense than it had been at his first touch…

And then it was morning, and Arissa found herself snuggled happily in the embrace of the most amazing man she’d ever known, his deep blue eyes closed in slumber. She kissed his throat, lowered her head and licked gently at the closest nipple.

Finn opened one eye. He smiled and slid his hand down her side…

That afternoon, they finally got out of bed and took a shower. She had not a single question left about what it would be like to date Finn Murphy, the Sidhe who was more a “he” than Arissa had ever imagined.

Nope. Not a single one.

FOURTEEN

 

 

Finn was smiling. He usually was, but this smile was one his father had never seen before. The older Murphy had been around for millennia, and thought he couldn’t be surprised by anything, much less his son’s behavior, yet there it was. A unique smile that didn’t belong on the face of a Gancanagh Sidhe.

Their type rarely had children; because they were immortal, reproduction was more or less unnecessary. But he’d made an exception with Finn’s mother, much as his own father had made an exception with his grandmother. It was all rather complicated, but the boy was undoubtedly a Gancanagh. Translation – Love-Talker. He was a male faerie whose main character trait was the inborn ability to seduce human women. And Finn a master at it. Why, he didn’t even have to try; his touch was all it took to take possession of a girl’s heart and soul, and when he tired of the poor thing, she’d usually pine away with desire for him.

That was the one part of it that Finn disliked. Unlike others of his kind, he had developed a heart over the centuries. It bothered him a great deal when this would happen, so he almost never got involved with the ladies anymore. But when he did, his father always knew by that damn-was-that-mind-blowing-sex smile on Finn’s face the next day… or two, or three…

Which was why this smile was so disturbing. It looked, well, completely human and unbelievable in its happiness-wattage. The bar was closed at the moment, and Finn had returned from wherever it was he’d gone with the beautiful hybrid two nights before. He’d walked in smiling, gone to the bar and begun polishing glasses, still smiling. He’d begun to hum, too, smiling the whole time. After an hour or so, Mr. Murphy decided he’d had enough.

“All right, boy, what did you do?”

“Huh?” Finn put down the pilsner glass he was buffing and smiled at the older man. “What do you mean?”

“With the girl. The, the, the werepire.”

“Ah. Exactly what you’re thinking I did.”

“And how did she behave when you told her you had to leave?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have tell her that. She kicked me out.”

Mr. Murphy was shocked. More shocked, in fact, than he ever thought he could be. “She did what?!”

“Said she needed to get to school, that she’d missed too much class. She also said she had errands and such to run, so asked if I wouldn’t mind leaving so she could get things done.” His smile broadened.

“And this makes you happy? That your magic didn’t work?”

“Well, that’s just it, old man.” He picked up a glass mug. “I didn’t use magic. Not that I had to. I mean, you know my touch does magic all by itself. So why add to that?”

“I’m confused.”

“Pass me the soap, will you?” He nodded at the dishwashing-liquid dispenser next to his father by the sink under the bar.

“Here. Now kindly explain yourself.”

Finn put down the mug, squirted some soap in it, and rested the dispenser beside it. “Father, I do believe I’m in love.”

If Liam Murphy had been capable of suffering a massive coronary, this would have been the moment to have one. “You’re – I’m speechless!”

“You? Never.” The younger man chuckled and turned on the hot water. “Sidhe magic doesn’t affect her, father. She likes me because she likes me. She – she shared herself with me because she wanted to. And far from wasting away with want of me, there’s a good chance I’ll eventually get on her nerves. How refreshing! How could I not be in love in the face of that, eh?” He put the mug under the water, filling it with suds.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Murphy nodded down at the soapy mug.

“Huh?” Finn looked at it, frowning. “I have no idea, to be honest.”

“So what now, boy?”

“Beats me. I miss her, though. Hell, I might be the one pining! What do you think of that?”

“I think you should have a drink.”

“Nope. Not thirsty. Hungry.”

“What would you like to have, then?”

“Arissa Martin.” And his laughter rang with pure joy for the first time in his incredibly long life.

 

*******

 

Another Thursday, another meeting. Arissa didn’t feel like going, but something told her she wouldn’t be given a choice. Maybe in a few hundred years or so she’d have enough standing in the monster community to beg off once in a while, but not yet. So after work, she took a shower, threw on jeans and a pale yellow off-the-shoulder sweat-shirt, several gold necklaces with various pendants dangling from them, swept her hair into a pony-tail, shoved her feet into a pair of old sneakers, and headed out for the church.

It still amused her that they had their meetings on what in other ages had been called “holy ground.” These were monsters who sucked people’s blood or tore them apart to feast on, for goodness’ sake! And they met in the basement of a church? Who knew?

Three months had passed since her “turning,” during which time she’d grown more accustomed to the creature she’d become. Her mother had continued to call her every so often, but was obviously having a hard time with the whole thing. Their conversations now were brief, stilted, and always started with, “How’s death treating you, dear?”

So far, she hadn’t said much to anyone about Finn. He was like her secret stash, and she was afraid something might ruin things if she spoke of it. Of course, had she not finally convinced her new and well-meaning circle of friends to stop barging into her apartment without warning, her steamy relationship with the Irishman would have been discovered long before.

Maya had agreed to say nothing, which helped. As for Finn, he usually spent at least three nights a week in her bed, and they’d had an incredible time learning about each other. She didn’t want to admit that what she felt for him went way beyond the friends-with-benefits category, but knew she’d eventually give in to the truth.

As for Leander, well, keeping him at arms’ length was a lot easier. She still liked him – and Blaine – but they were becoming more and more like big brothers than potential tryst-mates as the days went by. And she still wasn’t talking to Vlad.

She parked her car in the same spot she’d used the first time she’d gone. At first, she was too busy trying not to sneeze (somehow, being a werepire had done nothing to alleviate her incense allergies) to notice that something was different. But as she searched for a seat in the meeting room, she became aware of… what was going on? Why was she being stared at now? The first time she’d been there had been understandable – she was new. The second time, she’d begun to feel like one of the family, so to speak. So what had changed?

“Let’s get started, everyone,” Kyria called, raising her arms. “We have some very serious matters to discuss tonight!” And for some reason, she stared right at Arissa when she said this.

“Crap,” the girl muttered. She looked around to see where Maya was, eventually spotting her toward the back of the room, standing next to her werewolf mentor. Arissa started to wave, and then saw her friend turn away – on purpose – and sit down so the werewolf’s body hid her.

“We need silence!” Kyria’s voice was booming, and Arissa parked herself on the nearest folding chair.

Which happened to be all by itself at the front of the room.

The meeting began, Kyria covering several topics that were of no great moment: the monthly financial nonsense, some charity work that would need volunteers, something about the police, blah, blah, blah. Nothing worth staying awake about.

But then… “It seems we have a Situation.”

Arissa had no doubt that the word had been uttered with an initial capital letter. She also knew it had nothing to do with Reg, whose status had been handled at the last meeting.

“It seems one of us has been doing some pretty dangerous things, even if she didn’t know they were dangerous, and must be confronted.”

If the woman wasn’t talking about Arissa, she had an odd way of not looking at anyone else, the girl thought.

“I would like one of you familiar with such creatures to come to the front and have a little talk about the beings known as the Sidhe.” She took a step back, still glaring at the werepire sitting alone in the front.

Aw, hell, thought Arissa. How did they find out? And – wait. So what? What’s the big deal?

A man who looked to be in his early fifties came forward, his eyes giving away his werewolf status. Kyria introduced him as Gaylord Francis, and everyone rendered polite applause.

“Hello, my friends,” he began, his British accent making him sound pleasant. “I have had many an encounter with the Faerie, as you may know, and feel I have the authority to speak on the subject. Now a few of you are only a little familiar with these beings, while some of you apparently know nothing at all.” He narrowed his gaze and shot Arissa right between the eyes with it.

Muttering began somewhere in the back of the room, and grew like a swelling wave. This did not bode well…

“Yes,” Gaylord continued, “the Sidhe are a vile race, but they’ve become almost tolerable in recent decades. I believe some of our kind even frequent one of the establishments owned by one of them, yes?”

“You mean Murphy’s?” asked a woman on the other side of the room.

“Yes. Murphy’s. Normally they don’t involve themselves with any of our sort and for good reason. The same is true for us where they’re concerned.”

Mutter, mutter, mumble, a snort or two, more mumbling.

“So for the benefit of the ignorant among us,” he continued, failing to sound anything but scornful, “I’m going to recap their history, and the ways in which our various races have interacted with them.”

Some of the mutters became groans, and he raised a hand for silence. He then launched into a history lesson about the early Irish rulers, and told how, when the Milesians defeated them, they were allowed to go underground to live. Arissa already knew this much from stories her mother would read her when she was a child. These had been designed to frighten the girl into obedience, but all they did was fascinate her for the first ten minutes, then put her to sleep.

“Like us,” Gaylord went on, his voice rising, “they’re undead. But unlike us, they’re without a conscience, without a soul or a heart.”

Yeah, thought Arissa, because eating a human under the light of the full moon is such a compassionate thing to do, you annoying werewolf!

“They entrap the unsuspecting person and – well, that’s not really the issue at the moment. The important point is what happens to one of us if we, er, exchange blood with one of them.” He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze at Arissa once more. “They’re the only beings capable of killing us without any chance for remedy. We can certainly get blown up, or staked, or even shot to death, but a timely transfusion – except in the case of an explosion – can bring us back. But if we ingest Sidhe blood, we’re done for. Forever. No chance to come back no matter what anyone does!”

Then don’t bite one, you dweeb, Arissa thought at him.

“One would think this was easily avoidable, but you see, they also have magic, and they use it to disguise themselves from us. There are those among them who feel they have a mission to wipe our sort off the face of the earth, you see, and they purposely seek to be bitten. And it’s what they become after that which concerns us the most.”

Arissa remembered Finn’s father talking about that – about how they become completely indestructible and totally mad. How their sole purpose at that point is to murder. At the time, she’d thought he meant all people indiscriminately, but now she realized their target would be the undead ones of the biting variety. Yikes.

“Some have already destroyed entire communities in other areas of the world, mainly in Ireland, I believe. So it’s highly disturbing that they’re here, too.” Gaylord took a deep breath and shook his head. “So far, none of the Sidhe in this area, including the Murphys, has indicated a desire to harm us. But we don’t know that won’t change, or that the wrong behavior won’t trigger such an attack, even if it’s unintentional.” He was zeroing in on Arissa again.

And she’d had enough. She slowly got to her feet and stared around at the crowd. “Hello,” she said with false humility. “My name is Arissa Martin, and I’m a werepire.” Yep, sounded appropriately Alcoholics-Anonymous. Before anyone could speak, she continued, “I’m also dating Finn Murphy. In fact, I sleep with him. He’s amazing in bed, and even more amazing out of it. We talk. We laugh. We have a great time together. And we make love – a lot. He hasn’t done anything that makes me believe he has ulterior motives, and his father is a sweetheart. I have to wonder how many of you have actually taken the time to get to know him or his family? Finn is kind, funny, caring – anything but heartless!” She was getting worked up, now. “He told me one of the reasons he likes me is because I can take him or leave him.”

To her surprise, several gasps followed this bit of intel. It looked like Finn had been telling the absolute truth about that whole wasting-away thing. “I love being with him,” she went on, “but I’m fine when I’m not. He knows what I am, and we’ve already discussed staying away from each other on nights of the full moon. I’m pretty sure I can control myself around him even then, but I don’t think I should take any chances. But other than that, we’re fine, and I’d appreciate it if you’d all stop acting like I just killed all of your mothers! And Kyria,” she turned and faced the outraged vampire behind her, “if this was a problem, you should have had the respect and decency to come to me first and discuss it. Not make a big deal about it at this meeting and purposely humiliate me like this!”

Arissa had defied the woman once before, and had figured she’d survived it because at the time she was so new to all this. She realized she might not be as fortunate this time, but honestly didn’t care. As for this Gaylord guy – hell, it was hard enough to take him seriously with a name like that, but his obvious bias was infuriating her. So she addressed him next.

“As for you, Mr. Francis, I don’t give a crap how much experience you’ve had elsewhere with the Sidhe. How well do you know the Murphys? How well do you know me? Huh? Let me answer that while you’re having your aneurysm – not at all! How dare you make assumptions about people you don’t know! Sorry, dude, but I’m not an idiot, and neither is Finn. And while I’m sure there have been problems with those guys in the past, I’m also sure they’ve changed over the centuries. Kinda like vampires, yes? And werewolves? A hundred years ago, would you have been chilling together in a flipping church basement like a bunch of blood-drinking soccer moms? I think not! I’ve learned enough about you to know how much animosity used to exist between the races. So back the hell off, okay?”

Dead silence. No pun intended.

Arissa picked up her purse, shot a fiery glance at the entire room of beings who, if they felt so inclined, could have rushed her and torn her into teensy-weensy little molecules within seconds. Not sure that they still wouldn’t, she nevertheless turned her back on them and went out. Yeah, she was Irish, too, as her temper had just reminded her. But dang. So what?

As she got in her car, she told herself to calm down – turn on the radio, listen to some music, relax. What came on for some inexplicable reason (she swore she hadn’t put the Country Music station on) was “The Harper Valley PTA”.

She laughed all the way home.

FIFTEEN

 

 

Chaos reigned supreme. Now that was a cliché one could really sink one’s teeth into. Or fangs, as the case may be. Especially when it was so fitting. Had the church basement in fact been hosting a potluck dinner, it probably would have turned into a food-fight.

But no, it was a meeting of vampires, werewolves, and werepires. So instead of throwing food, they threw accusations.

“This is all your fault, Vlad!” screamed Kyria.

“Oh, shut up, you stupid bitch!” Oooh. Calling a vampire that, when it had such obvious canine associations, was without question the height of both cruelty and stupidity. And Vlad had done it on purpose, having had more than enough of her at this point. “You’re the one who said she should go out to bars!”

“And whose idea was it for her to date the Irishman, eh?” Her hands were up, her fingers curved into claws.

“Are you going to scratch me, my dear?”

Kyria opened her mouth and zoomed toward the other vampire, fangs extended, preparing to do some serious damage.

Right as she got within his personal space, Vlad raised a fist and cold-cocked her. Well, what really happened was that she ran face-first into that fist and knocked herself out.

Behind them, no one noticed this, everyone being too busy carrying on about who was wrong, who was right, who did Arissa think she was, and on and on and on. The room was almost evenly divided between those who supported her actions and those who wanted to rip her heart out. Among the former group were – understandably – Freya, Maya, Leander, Blaine and one or two others who thought she was cute. Among the latter were Gaylord Francis, most of the older members of the group, and – had she been awake – Kyria. No surprise there.

Before being shrieked at and threatened by the Queen, Vlad had found the girl’s behavior amusing, and now, shaking his head and grinning at what he considered a lot of silliness happening around him, he left to go find her.

That her car was gone was hardly a problem. He gave the matter a few seconds of thought, then zoomed away into the night toward Murphy’s.

Arissa was sitting at the bar talking to Finn. Even from the door, Vlad could see that the Sidhe was controlling an urge to laugh. He had no idea what Arissa was feeling, though, since she had her back to him. Time to find out, he told himself, and went forward.

“Can I get you anything, gorgeous?” asked one of the waitresses as he passed her.

“Bourbon neat,” he said. “I’ll take it at the bar.”

She shrugged and walked away.

“Are you all right, my dear?” asked Vlad as he slid onto the stool next to Arissa.

She swiveled to face him. “Vlad! What the hell! Did they send you here to kill me?”

He laughed. “No, darling, they’re too busy tearing each other apart to even care that I’ve left.”

She shot a horrified glance at Finn, then at Vlad. “They’re what? Why?”

“Actually,” he began, but interrupted himself momentarily to thank the waitress who had placed his drink in front of him. “Yes. Actually, it seems you have a number of loyal friends, and between them defending you and the rest condemning you, it’s quite a to-do!” He raised his glass as if in toast, and took a sip.

“What about Kyria? I’m surprised she didn’t kill me right then and there.”

“Hmm. True. I believe she was simply too shocked to react. Poor thing is getting slow. Anyway, with you gone, she attacked me instead.” He chortled and took another sip.

“Are you hurt?”

“Who is Kyria?” asked Finn. “Arissa gave me a brief outline of what went on, but she hadn’t yet gone into any great detail.”

“She’s the Queen,” said Vlad. “And no, I’m not hurt. She did try to tear me apart, though.”

“My God! What did you do?” Arissa’s concern was genuine as she said this.

Vlad shrugged and finished his drink. “I knocked her out. Well! I suppose I should get back now – just wanted to congratulate you, my dear. You’re the only one in who knows how many centuries to finally tell that self-important diva what-for. And you were right, too. You know, I suggested you date this fine gentleman here for a reason.” He patted her hand, stood, and left the bar without explaining what in the world he’d meant by that.

By the time he got back to the church, things had escalated. Blood had been spilled. Not anyone’s in the room, of course, but several bottles of the stuff had been flung in an attempt to damage one member or another. Rather a dumb move, since all of them could move fast enough to avoid being struck by a thrown object, even if the thrower was equally strong and fast.

Vlad stood in the doorway, arms crossed, observing the broken glass, blood puddles, and one or two wrestling matches taking place along the sides of the room. Kyria, he noted, had fully recovered, and was talking in a furious undertone to Gaylord. He watched a while longer, got bored, and decided it was time to put an end to all the nonsense.

No one – not even Kyria – really knew the extent of Vlad’s powers, mainly because he never let any of them see what he could do. In the old days, however, when things had been less civilized, many a vampire had gone up in flames before realizing he’d pissed off the wrong undead. Not that he was in the mood for incinerating anyone just yet. But there were other things he could do that were every bit as impressive, if less deadly. May as well start with that, he decided.

Taking a moment to concentrate, he closed his eyes and stepped into the room. He raised his arms, stopped a few feet in, and the lights flickered.

No one seemed to notice and the yelling, wrestling and bickering continued.

Vlad raised his face to the ceiling and opened his eyes. They were completely white. He made a crescent of his arms as he raised them higher and brilliant flashes of light sparked from one set of fingertips to the other.

“Oh, shit!” said someone.

And the room went red. Not dark, not murky, but red.

“You will hold your peace!” Vlad bellowed, lowering his arms. “You who are undead shall cease your clamor, or you shall join the ranks of the unliving!”

Silence.

Beside Kyria, Gaylord began to sputter. “And just who in hell do you think you are, you irritating little Vam…”

Since talking is impossible when one becomes a standing flash-fire, Gaylord never did finish that sentence. A moment later, the column of white-blue flame imploded and with a sucking sound, was gone. All that remained was a scorch mark in the shape of two shoe prints.

Vlad crossed his arms and looked around, the sheer terror on the faces of his “family” exaggerated by the light that was painting them all crimson. “Listen well,” he hissed.

They nodded.

“Change can come slowly or suddenly. I tried to keep things happening at a pace more easily accepted, but instead of reason, you used emotion. Instead of discourse, you used discord, and now you must accept that which should have taken a longer time to occur.” He turned to face Kyria, who was standing stiff as a pole, her eyes bugged out a bit. “You.” He pointed a finger at her. “You have forgotten how you became Queen, and who put you in that position. You have forgotten that your power is minimal compared to that of the one who raised you to your throne. Had you remembered, your reign would have continued for many more decades, perhaps even centuries. But now it is over.”

She started to speak, but Vlad pointed next to the horrific evidence of the last being who had interrupted him and she swallowed, bowing her head.

“We must continue to grow and change, or we will atrophy and fade away. Our society consists of the undead, the near-dead, and the half-dead. We must include another race to keep us viable – the immortals. A vampire, as you know and have just seen, can be killed. So can a werewolf, a werepire, a skin-walker, and all of the off-world species. The immortals, however, cannot. Among them are the Sidhe. Like us, they have evolved, grown, changed, become less angry, less violent. And among them are those who seek alliances with beings who, like them, are not human. One of the most promising among them is Finn Murphy. Of our group, the most viable is Arissa Martin. When she told me she was attracted to him, I realized it was time to start the change.”

In a tiny voice, Kyria said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did, and you told me I’d lived too long, that I was going insane.”

“No, I mean, why didn’t you explain all this when you casually mentioned how you’d suggested to Arissa that she date this creature?” Kyria was on the verge of forgetting herself, her voice having risen.

Vlad seethed at her and she backed off. “Do not question me, Kyria. Not ever again.” He turned back to the quivering crowd and raised his arms once more.

A collective gasp of fear filled the room and Vlad nearly lost it. They sounded like a Vaudeville act, for heavens’ sake! He compressed his lips, forcing himself to stay serious – this wasn’t funny, after all. “We are the children of death, but not its slaves!” he intoned. “We are death-life! And we must go on, we must see our purpose, we must fulfill it! And what is our purpose, my children?”

“To help mankind enjoy life, accept death, and grow into peace!” The response had been automatic, one they had all been taught at some point in their non-lives – or at least most of them had.

“And what do we require in return?” Vlad intoned.

“Blood-breath and nothing more!”

“These are the words and the understanding and the wisdom of your first true king, Samuel. Take them to heart and live them fully.” He lowered his arms, the room went dark for a split second, followed by the regular lights flickering back on, and Vlad was once again his old, familiar self, his eyes their regular color. “Now clean up this mess, please,” he said, nodding at the broken bottles and blood. “We have to be out of here in – ” he lifted his left wrist and consulted his watch, “ – twenty minutes. Kyria, kindly close the meeting, then meet me at my loft. We have things to discuss.”

When he was gone, the only sounds in the previously raucous room were the ones made by brooms, rags, and shattered glass.

 

*******

 

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

            Arissa groaned and opened one eye. She was staring at another eye. A deep blue one. “You’re not my clock,” she murmured.

            Knock-knock-knock-knock…

            Taking a deep, quick, angry breath, she leaped out of bed and zoomed to the door, fully expecting it to be her mother, and ready to blast her for sounding like a woodpecker this early in the morning.

            It wasn’t her mother.

            “Hello, Arissa. You, er, you’re not… ” Kyria cleared her throat, blushed, and turned away.

            She can blush?! “Oh. It’s you. What do you want?”

            “To talk to you – could you put some clothing on, please?”

            “You sound like my mother. What’s so important that you had to bang on my door like that?”

Kyria nodded. “You’re right. That was uncalled for. But this isn’t easy and I’d like to… to… ”

“To what? Get it over with? Get what over with? Are you revoking my werepire card or something?”

“Oh, for the love of – may I please come in, and will you please put something on!”

“Huh. Sure.” She stepped back, wondering how the VP and Mrs. Martin would get along. “Er, go have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

As Kyria perched on the edge of the sofa, probably because there were several piles of laundry on it and the edge was the only available spot, Arissa went back to her room and climbed onto the bed, straddling Finn. “Wake up, faery-boy.”

His eyes had already been open, and he gave her a huge grin before reaching up and tickling her sides.

“Ack! Stop it! You brat!” She tickled him back, making him jump and nearly fling her off onto the floor.

Laughing, eyes filled with happiness, he slid up to a sitting position as she got off. “What’s up, my werewoman?”

“We have company.”

“Your mother?” His smile faded.

“No, but almost as bad. The real-life Queen of the Damned.”

He frowned. “Huh? You mean the woman you and that vampire were talking about last night? The one who went all self-righteous on you?”

“That’s the one.” She was at the closet, looking for something clean. Aha! Dress. Green with little purple flowers, it was a sleeveless shift that she hadn’t worn for a while, but liked a lot because of the way it flowed around her curves.

“What’s she want?”

“For me to get dressed.” Arissa giggled and pulled the dress over her head.

“Hey, where’s your decency, girl? You’ve no underthings on!”

“So? Besides, once she’s gone… ” She waggled her brows at him in an exaggerated leer.

“May I meet her?” Finn got out of bed and stretched.

“Oh, lord, don’t do that – I’ll never leave this room.” She stared with deep appreciation at every inch of him and sighed.

“Ah, well, I suppose I could go out there like this, then.”

Arissa shook her head, bent down and picked up his jeans that he’d left where he’d stepped out of them the night before. She tossed them at him and said, “Not on your life. She might decide you’re as awesome as I think you are.”

“As if I’d want anything to do with anyone other than you, lovely Arissa.”

She put her fists on her hips. “Dude. Like flattery works on me.”

“I know.” He pulled on the jeans. “That’s why I’m still around, sweetheart. You aren’t fooled by my glib Irish tongue.”

“Speaking of your Irish tongue,” she said, her voice almost a purr.

“Now, now, Arissa darlin’ – we have a vampiress to deal with. There’s time enough for that later.”

“Crap. Fine. Let’s go.”

As she came out into the living room, Kyria sat straighter and was about to speak, but then Finn entered, put an arm around Arissa’s shoulders, and the woman closed her mouth, going into an uncharacteristic slouch.

“Kyria, this is Finn. I think it’s about time you met him.”

The Sidhe stared long and hard at Kyria, eyes narrowed, but said nothing.

“Coffee, anyone?” Arissa raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, sure,” Finn said, taking a seat opposite the vampire.

“None for me, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Arissa went off into the kitchen, wondering what would happen while she was gone, and hoping she wouldn’t return to find an exploded vampire and a nutbag fae cluttering up her apartment.

Over the sounds of water gurgling in the guts of her coffee maker, the voices in the other room were audible but the words indistinguishable. No matter, she told herself, not bothering to focus harder in order to make out what they were saying. Finn was Finn, and Kyria was – what was Kyria doing here? She hadn’t looked like she was on the verge of committing murder, and in fact had exhibit a subdued demeanor Arissa couldn’t explain.

The fragrant brew finished brewing, so she filled two large mugs and went to the fridge. Both she and Finn like their coffee with cream and a ton of sugar… could Kyria be here to tell Arissa she was no longer allowed to attend the meetings? No, there had been no determined lift to the woman’s chin, an arrogant behavior the woman had been known to exhibit right before delivering a rebuke of one sort or another.

Taking a sip from her mug, Arissa grabbed the other one and went back out into the living room.

“…must have been given bad information.” Kyria was speaking, her expression was one of icy embarrassment. Or that was how Arissa interpreted the vampire’s averted gaze and stern look.

“Yes, I would expect so.” Finn took the mug Arissa was offering and gestured for her to sit beside him. He had removed the notebook, three pens, two candy wrappers and five textbooks that had been inhabiting its surface.

She sat, took another sip, and leaned forward. “Kyria, why did you come here?”

The vampire drew herself up and riveted her glittery gaze on Arissa’s oval pupils. “I came here to apologize. My behavior last night was… was abominable, rude, and unnecessary. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry Arissa. And now that I’ve met Finn, I can understand your, er, attraction, as well as see for myself that he’s nothing like what I’d been led to believe the Sidhe were like.” She stood, the movement abrupt and like a physical interpretation of the words “I’ve done what I came to do, and now I’m going.”

Arissa also stood. “Thank you Kyria. Look – may I be honest with you?”

“When have you ever not been honest, my dear?”

“Hmm. True. All right. When I first met you, you totally freaked me out. Probably because of all the weirdness about me being chomped on and then bitten, and then killed and resurrected as a semi-dead whatever, not to mention the strange notes and never having even believed in vampires and all that before, and… I’m babbling. Sorry. What I’m trying to say is that even though I’ve disagreed with some of the things you’ve said, I’ve always respected you. You’re like my undead godmother, if that makes any sense. If you had come here to kick me out of the group, the only thing that would have really bothered me would have been losing you. There. I’ve said it. And I’m sorry if I’ve been a pain in the ass.” Behind her, she could feel Finn staring, but would ask him why later.

Kyria, meanwhile, had put her head to one side, frowning, but then she came closer and pulled Arissa into a hug that, far from feeling dangerous, felt warm and genuine.

Really? Do I actually mean something to her?

“My sweet, dearest Arissa,” Kyria whispered, pulling back and looking deep into the girl’s eyes. “I never wanted children of my own, and still don’t, but I’ve longed for someone to whom I could pass my crown, so to speak. And while I no longer wear it because of my atrocious behavior last night, I can still wish for a successor. You, my child, have been the one I wished to see take my place one day, and I still do. That, in part, is why I was so upset about your relationship with Finn. I feared it could mean your death, not to mention you becoming a hated memory because of the damage the Sidhe would do to our community. So I am happier than you can imagine that none of my fears were founded.” She squeezed Arissa’s shoulders, stepped back, and turned away, heading for the door.

Watching her leave, Arissa whispered, “Thank you,” knowing the ex-queen would hear it… wait. She’d been deposed? By whom? Who had the power to do that to her? Was there another vampire somewhere who was more powerful?

“What is it?” Finn had gotten up and was standing beside her.

“I’m trying to figure out who could have taken her down like that. Any ideas?”

“One. Maybe you didn’t notice, or maybe you don’t see auras, but I do. There’s one of you whose aura is so powerful, it almost scared the earwax out of me – good thing he seems to like me.”

Arissa turned and stared up at him, perplexed. “What? Who?”

“The vampire who came into the bar last night, of course.” And before she could reply, he kissed her.

Discussion over. 

SIXTEEN

 

Wizards, according to every silly book Arissa had read about them as a child, wore pointed hats. They had beards and long robes with moons and stars all over them. They carried tall staff thingies with a crystal ball or some such item embedded in the top. What they didn’t wear were jeans and an old sweatshirt with a faded Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” album cover printed on the front. They also didn’t have shaved heads, no facial hair other than a scruffy-looking five o’clock shadow, or carry electronic notebooks.

“You’re a wizard?”

“No. Don’t be stupid. I just know how to do real magic.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Arissa, this is Dusty. He hates being called a wizard, and with all the nonsense out there about them these days, who can blame him?”

Arissa was in Murphy’s in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Those three facts were astonishing enough, but then this young man with a shaved head, an unshaved jaw, and a Pink Floyd sweatshirt had shuffled in, a Dell notebook under one arm. He had nodded at Finn, ogled Arissa, and sat at the bar a few stools away from the pair. That was when the list of astonishing things had grown longer.

“Ah, my wizard friend!” Finn had greeted him.

In response, the young man had scowled, belched, and demanded an ale, prompting Arissa’s query.

“Okay,” she said, now that she knew the cretin’s name. “I can respect that, what with Snogwarts and all… whatever it’s called in that… stop laughing at me, Finn.” She slapped his arm. Having heard snippets of those books but never having read them, she wasn’t sure about any of the names in them – not that it mattered. “So if you aren’t a wizard, what do you call yourself?”

“Right now? Thirsty.”

“Thirsty Dusty. Or Dusty Thirsty. I see.”

“No, you clearly don’t. You may be beautiful, but I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of functioning brain cells in that gorgeous head.”

Arissa found herself wondering what would happen if she bit a wizard. Would he turn into a flatulent toad in a sparkly hat at the new moon? Before she could ask, Finn stood and approached the redoubtable Dusty, put a hand on his shoulder, and bent down to whisper something in the bald youth’s ear.

Dusty turned grey. He gulped. He whispered something back to Finn. Finn smiled and returned to his seat beside Arissa.

A schooner of golden, frothy liquid was place before dear Dusty, who took a long, Adam’s-apple-shifting series of gulps. Placing the glass down, he turned toward Arissa and offered her a smile. Not a regular smile, but one that looked like it had been hiding in the back of an underwear drawer, hoping it would never be called upon. “To answer your question, I think of myself more as a mage.”

“But you can do real magic.”

“Yes. I’m not immortal or anything, but I do have certain abilities that will probably keep me alive longer than most – assuming I don’t get my head torn off for saying something stupid to the wrong person.” His right eye twitched at Finn.

“I see.” She did. A reward awaited her fae champion later, she vowed. “Do you know fae magic, then?” Arissa had been paying attention when in Sidhe company, oh, yes she had. It always made sense to be alert when around those who had the potential to destroy all life on the planet.

After taking another sip, Dusty nodded. “In fact I do. Finn here tells me you’re a kind of hybrid.”

As opposed to Finn there…and when did he tell you that? A nanosecond later she realized he must have told Dusty the Mage/Wizard what she was while terrifying him into civility with that whisper. “A triple hybrid. Human, vampire, and werewolf. They call me a werepire, but personally, I’d say a more accurate term would be Humpirewolf.” She frowned. “Or not – that’s kind of clumsy.” She heard a snicker and turned. “Stop it.”

Finn changed his expression to something more serious (which didn’t fool Arissa for a second), and asked Dusty if he wanted more ale.

“No, this is… I’m fine. I came to see your father, to tell you the truth. Is he here?”

“Probably asleep on the floor somewhere in the back. I’ll go get him. You two play nice, please.” Sliding off the stool, Finn gave them a raised eyebrow and a nod, and headed for a door on the other side of the room.

Arissa considered the pseudo-wizard for a second. “Is there any point in trying to converse with you?”

“None.”

“Thought so.” She gave him a nice smile that was about as heart-felt as a politician’s promise and returned her focus to the glass of wine in front of her on the bar. The very glass, in fact, that she had been on the verge of relieving of its contents when Dusty shuffled in.

“Is that one of those dumb spritzers?”

“Do you see any bubbles?” Why was this weird guy saying anything at all to her? He’d just nixed the whole conversation thing.

“No. Just – I’m used to seeing girls drink those things.”

“You don’t get out much, do you.” She hadn’t asked, eliminating the need for a question mark.

Sighing, Dusty stared at her, or at least she felt him doing that since she wasn’t facing him. Profile stares had always been more easily detectable in bar situations, Arissa had discovered. Weird. She took a sip, put down the glass, and swiveled her seat to face the young man who she was about to call Dustbunny. He was getting on her nerves now. “Can I help you?”

“Ha! As if you could.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, girls as beautiful as you can’t seem to find the time to relate to me on more than a get-lost-creep level, so I doubt you could say anything useful.”

“Why are you talking to me, then?”

Shrug.

“Okay. Maybe this is easier – why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re freaking gorgeous, obviously.”

Arissa nodded. “Right. Obviously. Not my fault, then. Or maybe you think anyone you consider attractive should be swathed in head scarves or something.”

“Who I consider attractive? What – you don’t think you are?”

“I know I am, or at least I’m aware that I have my moments. But what the hell does that have to do with being civil? Do you think that every girl who doesn’t look like a shoe is an idiot or something?”

Dusty had taken a sip of his ale, but choked a little. “A… ack. A shoe? Ha! Good one! But, well, did you even finish high school?”

Arissa was astonished. “What century are you from, dude? Holy cow! I’m in college, and eventually plan to get my Masters, maybe even a Doctorate.”

“In what?”

“Veterinary biology.” Arissa had the sudden, odd sensation of staring at herself in shock. Where on earth had that come from? She was in college for a business degree, for crap’s sake!

“You have to be good in math to do that.” Dusty the Smug took another sip.

“I figured out the Fibonacci sequence when I was five years old, and love playing with non-Euclidean geometry and string theory when I’m bored. You?” Good thing there’s no full moon tonight, you self-satisfied bozo.

Putting his glass on the bar, his notepad down beside it, Dusty crossed his arms and glared at her for a full three seconds. “Okay, that’s so not fair!”

“What isn’t? That she has beauty and brains?” Finn eased onto the stool beside Arissa.

She didn’t turn, too busy watching Dusty beginning to melt down. Fascinating.

“Wh-yes!”

“You worry about all the wrong things, Dusty-lad.” Finn’s father had appeared behind the bar when Arissa wasn’t paying attention, startling her. He belched.

Swiveling straight once more and facing the elder Murphy, Dusty grunted and handed him the notepad. “I brought what you asked for.”

Mr. Murphy stared down at it for a few seconds, nodding and muttering in what Arissa suspected was Gaelic. “This is exactly what I was looking for, Dusty lad. Now I can take care of something that’s been chewing on this old brain during the wee hours.” He slapped the counter while uttering a loud, “Humph!” and went back to wherever he’d been.

Dusty downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and sat back down with a backside-punishing thud.

“Something wrong?”

“Yes, Finn. I’m dizzy. What did you give me?”

“Irish ale, of course.”

“With what in it?”

Finn frowned, leaned an elbow on the bar, rested his chin on his upraised palm and stared over Dusty’s head at the far wall. “Let’s see now… hops, distilled water, barley perhaps… not sure… ”

Whatever else he may have been about to add to the recipe was interrupted by Dusty sliding off the stool in a kind of gentle slow motion and crumpling to the floor.

“What did you give him, Finn?” Arissa wasn’t worried, since she’d been convinced that Finn and this wizard fellow were good friends. Curious was all.

“A little something to keep him from protesting when I had him hauled away to the safe room.”

“Why would he need to be in a – in a safe room?”

“So he doesn’t get murdered the second he leaves here.” Finn shrugged, took out his cell, and texted something.

Arissa wanted to ask him the obvious, but had gotten to know her Irish fae well enough to appreciate his reticence about things that were none of her business. So she sipped at her drink without raising so much as an eyebrow when two burly gentlemen rolled into the bar, picked up the wizard – one under the arms, the other by the feet – and carried him through the door leading into the back rooms behind the bar. They had not, however, taken the Dell with them.

“Is it safe to leave this around?” She picked up the notebook and held it out toward Finn.

“No. You’re right. I should give it to my father.” He leaned closer and gave her a quick kiss, took the notebook, and went through the door a second before it got shut by the man holding Dusty’s feet.

Ticking. A huge clock hung over the back wall of the bar over the mirror behind the shelves of liquor bottles. During the crowded times, the sound was inaudible over all the loud music and shouting. Arissa drummed her fingernails on the bar in rhythm with the drowsy tick-tock. How nice…

The front door opened again, but this time, “open” was an understatement. Banged-open-so-hard-it-nearly-fell-off-its-hinges was more accurate. Four figures entered, none of them appearing in any way pleasant or friendly as far as Arissa could see. She finished her drink and stood.

The closest thug-like individual gave her a quick up-and-down. “Out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Meaning what – that you’ll run me over if I don’t move? I’m not even in your way.” By this time, Arissa had become dangerous in her own right, what with Vlad's instructions in self-defense, her supernatural speed, and the knowledge that it would take more than a punch in the nose to send her into eternity.

“Bold little princess, ain’t she!” The one who said this had a thick cockney accent – or what Arissa interpreted as such – and reminded her a little bit of the actor who played the CG-enhanced version of Beowulf.

“I’m right here, you know.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Right! So you are. Where’s the little magic man?”

“Gandalf?”

One of the other two uttered a short laugh that he turned into a cough when the front-man turned toward him. Arissa couldn’t see his face, but suspected he was glaring. And then he turned back. He was glaring, but now it was aimed at her, and for the first time she detected something that glowed red behind the pupils in eyes that looked too green to be natural. Great.

“I hate bitches who think they’re smart.” He took a step closer, fist raised.

In a flash, Arissa was behind him and pushed him toward the bar. Had the stools not been there, he might have been fine, but, well, they were. Getting tangled up in barstools is not the most dignified thing a person could do, and by the time he’d extricated himself, the others had turned on Arissa and cornered her near one of the booths.

“Kick her stupid ass!” the man snarled, tossing away the last of the stools.

“My ass is no more stupid than I am, thank you.” She smiled, her hand closing on one of the pre-rolled flatware bundles that had been set out on the tables for the evening’s patrons. Knife or fork…hmmm. Spoon? Nah. Fork. Jumping up on the seat, she kicked the first man who tried to grab her, the toe of her shoe making contact with the underside of his chin. Head snapping back, he tottered into the man behind him, was pushed aside to the ground, and now that one lunged.

The fork turned out to be more effective than she’d expected, and more than she’d been prepared to deal with. She’d forgotten that in addition to having extraordinary speed, she was also much stronger than a normal human. As the tines sank into the man’s throat, blood spurted out of his mouth and splattered the front of her shirt.

Arissa, despite feeling like she wanted to vomit, was assaulted by the memory of her mother holding up her other bloody shirt and pointing out how difficult it was to remove bloodstains. Amazing. Even during a crisis, her mother managed to intrude.

“Okay, now you’re gonna die.” The cockney-accented individual pulled out a knife as He-Who-Falls-Into-Barstools grew a set of talons.

Talons… what? This was a new one. Before anything else could happen, however, the door to the back room opened and Finn, hands in his pockets, sauntered out, smiling.

Arissa boggled.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” His sudden Irish accent at its most lilting, he added, “Is there a problem? You wouldn’t be thinking of harming my lovely girlfriend, now, would you?”

Awww…

“That bitch is getting in my way,” Barstool-Man replied, glowing eyes narrow.

Finn stared at the man’s hands and shook his head. “Put those away, Wills. You know better than to do that in here.”

“But look at what she did to Convers!” He pointed a talon at the man on the floor, who was clutching his throat with blood-slicked hands.

Finn turned to Arissa. “Did you do that?”

“I… yes. Yes, I did. I did that.” She shuddered.

Finn’s smile went crooked. “Good girl.”

“We want the sorcerer!” This from the one with the accent.

“Who? And I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“What? Who cares? Hand over the sorcerer or you’ll wish you’d never been born!”

Finn sat in the booth and crossed his legs. “You say that like I have him hidden in a pocket or something.”

The man who Arissa now knew as Wills looked at his still-standing comrades, back at Finn, and then at Arissa. His claws retracted and his eyes stopped glowing. “I don’t want to lose another man. Merriman, help Convers up and get him to the car. I have some bandages in the trunk.”

So the man Arissa had kicked in the chin was Merriman, and the one she’d forked was Convers. She still didn’t know the other one’s name, nor did she want to know. At least her victim hadn’t died – yet. She shuddered again.

And now the un-named thug was coming at Finn. “I don’t know who the hell you are and I don’t care! We have a job to do and – ”

Finn raised a hand and wannabe Beowulf turned purple, eyes going huge. A second later he was on the floor, hands to his throat, no sounds of breathing coming from his gaping mouth.

“For god sakes, Finn, don’t kill him!” Wills went to a knee beside his stricken accomplice.

“Fine.” Finn lowered his hand to the table and the man’s face returned to something closer to a normal color, his long intake of breath raspy.

“Who… what is he?”

“Fae.”

“Shit.” The expletive came out as a hoarse whisper as the man sat up, eyes watering.

Wills stood. “Look, we just want the sorcerer. He stole something and we’ve been hired to get it back.”

“Then why do you need him, too?” Arissa felt like she was getting an education, but wasn’t sure on what topic.

“He has to pay for his crime, you… er, miss.”

Astounded at the power Finn had over these men, especially since one of them seemed to be every bit as supernatural as he and Arissa, she nodded but didn’t like Wills’ answer. “Why does that sound like his payment will be some kind of slow, awful death?”

Wills grinned, shocking her. “Guess maybe you are smart. That’s exactly what’s awaiting him.”

“Did you know he’s also my good friend?” Getting to his feet, Finn looked down at Wills, his smile nowhere to be seen. “Tell whoever sent you that the sorcerer is under my protection. I’ll see to it that if what was taken wasn’t something that would harm anyone else, it will be returned immediately. Now, please get out of my bar.” He took a step closer.

“You may be kicking over a hornet’s nest, Finn.”

“Maybe, but I’m not allergic to stings of any kind.” He put an arm around Arissa’s shoulders. “Good day to you.”

The other man had gotten to his hands and knees and shuffled back toward the still open front door. At Finn’s dismissal, he stood and shot outside, followed a moment later by Wills.

“Well that was stimulating,” Arissa muttered.

“Not as stimulating as you.” Finn slid is arm away, took her by the shoulders, and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss that had her knees turning to water.

“Aw, get a room, you two.” Mr. Murphy had joined them, if the presence of his voice was any indication, but Arissa didn’t care. In fact, she was this close to tearing off Finn’s shirt…

Finn pulled away, leaving her devastated. Could almost committing murder be some kind of weird aphrodisiac? She swallowed, took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. “Hello, Mr. Murphy. Um, sorry.”

“Never mind. Who is going to mop up all that blood?” He pointed at the floor near her left foot.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s my fault. I’ll do it – you have a mop I can use? Or I could grab a passing vampire.”

“Heavens, boy, what did she do? Has she made her first kill?”

“Almost.” Finn frowned. “Arissa, are you really okay?”

“Probably not. But I suppose I need to get used to stuff like this, right?” The thought of more violence on that level was not a happy one.

Finn took her by the shoulders again, but this time stared down into her eyes. “No, Arissa, you don’t. No one should ever get used to it, and I won’t have you thinking it’s in any way expected or normal.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I… I just didn’t know what else to do. I really thought they were going to tear my head off or something. So I grabbed a fork and – hey! Why did you say ‘good girl’ when I told you I’d hurt that guy?”

“Because I was proud of you. Your fortitude and quick thinking surprised me. But that doesn’t mean I want you to ever have to do something like that again.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t either.”

“Good.” Another quick kiss, and he began to turn away.

“Wait.”

A raised eyebrow.

“What was that guy, er, Wills, was it? I mean, his eyes… ”

“A Leshy.”

“Er, not in my vocabulary yet. Want to enlighten me?”

Mr. Murphy groaned. “Finn, give her the short version. I have things to do, so if you two will excuse me?” Leaning over the bar, he grabbed a bottle of something clear and left them.

“Have a seat, my love, and I’ll tell you about the Leshy.”

Picking up the scattered barstools, she set them back in their places and sat. “You have my attention, scary man.”

“Scary?”

“Yeah, scary. I never saw you do that Darth Vader thing before.”

Finn frowned for a second. “Ah. Okay, you mean the choking bit.”

“That’s the one.”

“I’d never do that to you, you know.”

“I would hope not! I just didn’t realize you had that kind of ability.”

He nodded and sat next to her. “Well. The Leshy.”

“Yes. The Leshy knows, the safer she’ll be!” A short burst of crazy laughter. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Hmm. Right. Okay. Leshies are male woodland spirits from Slovenia. According to their mythology, the Leshy is supposed to protect their forest lands and the wild animals that live there.”

“You say that like that’s not really what they do.”

“Good observation. I think at one point they did do stuff like that, but the modern world changed them. One or two probably ventured out into society and decided to change their vocation to something profitable. They’re shapeshifters, too.”

She gave a momentary though to Vlad’s explanation of shapeshifters. “Oh, great.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that they aren’t always nice. In fact, they usually aren’t. Most of them, anyway.”

“True. These, as you’ve just seen, often appear as tall men – completely normal, except that in human form, their eyes glow. And without a squirrel or two to guard, their abilities run more toward mischievousness and even less pleasant behaviors.”

“Why was he so afraid of you?”

“That, I’m afraid, is a much longer story, and one of these days I’ll fill you in. For now, though, all you have to remember about Wills is that he also has the ability to change size and shapeshift into any form, animal or plant, shrinking or growing accordingly.”

“Oh, great! So he could disguised himself as a rose in a bouquet or something, and I’d never know it!”

“Yup. Pretty much. The good news is, if you do happen to recognize that the rose you’re looking at is actually Wills before he realizes you figured out his disguise, you can hurt or kill him the way you would a flower.”

Arissa had a sudden mental image of herself regarding every plant with deep suspicion, an activity that would probably get her institutionalized. And then another thought occurred to her and she burst out laughing.

“Uh, Rissa?”

“Oh, God! Instead of pepper spray, I should start carrying around a spray bottle of herbicide!” She nearly choked on the last word and doubled over, her laughter going silent.

“That… okay. Er, while you’re doing that, I’ll finish my explanation, shall I?”

She waved a hand at him, nodding, trying to breathe.

“Right! So, in their natural state, Leshies have beards made of actual grass and vines, which is why you’ll never see one in that form.” He fell silent.

Gasping and straightening, Arissa looked at him, one hand over her mouth, the other on her stomach, her eyes watering. A second later, she got herself under control. “Sorry.” Her grin refused to leave, so she stopped fighting it. “Please continue.”

Making a clicking sound that writers spelled “tsk,” he shook his head. “Ah, my sweet girl. Anyway, they’ve been depicted with a tail, hooves, and horns, but I’ve never seen one that looked like that. I think it was just some painter taking artistic license with the concept of the Leshy, and others copied his idea. You know, I’m surprised you were never told about them.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, they’re closely associated with bears and gray wolves.”

“Hence the claws?”

“Hence the claws. Anyhow, in all forms that aren’t covered in fur, they have pale, almost pure white skin and dark green eyes.”

“Really? Wills didn’t look like that.”

“Tanning booths.”

She thought about that for a moment and nodded. “Guess the modern world really does help them function in society.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, yes, they’ve figured out ways to fit in better, but as far as how they function, I’m afraid they’re all more nefarious than benevolent. I’m not sure ‘function in society’ is an accurate description.”

Leaning an elbow on the bar, fascinated by all this new info, Arissa put a cheek on her upraised hand. “What do they do, then, other than hire themselves out as hit-men?”

“That’s pretty much it. But in their spare time, they do like to make people sick using natural magic. Back in god-knows-when age, one of their methods was to tickle their victims to death.”

She nodded. “Sounds funny until you remember that being tickled for too long becomes painful. That’s a horrible way to go… the bastards!”

“That they are. And if you get them angrier than usual, they let out this awful yell. Of course, they aren’t always evil, and some of their mischief is no worse than the average human practical joke. They do, however kidnap young women from time to time, but the ones who get away often speak of the experience as, um, yes. Well, they imply that they’d love to get kidnapped again. Something to do with all that shapeshifting nonsense.”

“Finn! You’re blushing!”

“No I’m… shut up.”

Finding him irresistible for reasons that had nothing to do with Fae magic, she slid off the stool, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

Impressum

Texte: Copyright 2012, Judy Colella. No part of this work nor its entirety may be copied or used without express written permission by the author. All U.S. copyright laws apply.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 29.03.2012

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