Author: Molly Harper

It was the sort of place Chris Hansen was always exposing on Dateline, where sad humans offer themselves up as midnight snacks to vampires without dignity. These were basically overgrown teenagers in too much makeup, too much leather. In fact, they’d look like total doofuses if the lights were on.

The DJ played only two records, Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral and the Blade soundtrack. It was incongruous with the decor, which was early American bordello. Red flocked wallpaper, dark ornately carved furniture, uncomfortably stylized red velvet couches. To be honest, it looked like River Oaks before Aunt Jettie got hold of it. Besides the hurricane-lamp sconces, the only wall decorations were oil paintings of historical figures who were supposedly vampires, from Vlad the Impaler and Elizabeth Bathory to Mercy Brown.

“I take it Gabriel has never brought you here?” Dick asked, taking in my horrified expression. “He probably thinks it blasphemous or unpatriotic or one of those terms that basically means he’s a tight-ass with no sense of humor.”

“You know that you’re not going to get me to play along when you say something like that,” I told him. “You say you’re interested in Andrea and I’m just a friend. You’ve even been getting along—well, tolerating Gabriel’s presence. Why are you still making those comments about Gabriel?”

Dick mulled that over for a moment. “Force of habit. What the—” Dick was interrupted as a pale, lanky man with a shock of badly dyed black curly hair knelt before me and kissed my sandaled feet. Unfortunately, the sandals were pretty old, so I can only imagine how funky that must have been.

“Um, can I help you?” I asked, finally resorting to kicking him slightly to get him off my foot.

He peered up at me. “You are a Lonely One, are you not? A Night Childe?”

“I’m not exactly burning up the social scene, but I wouldn’t classify myself as lonely. It’s not as if I have a bunch of cats or something.”

A similarly pasty girl with stringy platinum hair and smudged kohl around her eyes joined him at my feet. Dick snickered, but covered it by taking a swig of beer. “We wish to drink at the fount of your wisdom,” the blonde whispered.

“Show us the way,” Floppy Black Hair intoned.

“Jason—”

Floppy Black Hair objected. “My name is Bowan Ravenswood, ancient one.”

“Your name is Jason Turner, and we went to Vacation Bible School together.” I pulled my foot out of his grip once again.

“Let me—”

“Remove your hand, or that will be the last time you know the touch of a woman.”

His smile was feverish. “I would be happy to have you initiate me.”

“Jason, go home, or I’ll have my mama call your mama.”

I grimaced at Dick as the pasty pair slinked away.

“Did you set that up?” I demanded. “Is that like the vampire version of the TGI Friday’s wait staff singing ‘Happy Birthday’?”

Dick looked completely innocent for the first time since I’d met him. “No, that was totally spontaneous.”

“Your lack of guile upsets me,” I said, watching as Jason approached a more receptive-looking Lonely One. I shook my head.

As another whey-faced youth approached with beseeching eyes, I held up a hand and told him “No.” I took a long sip of my drink and closed my eyes.

Sensing female distress, the bartender, a tall brunet with heavily lined brown eyes and a gold ankh stud in his ear, replaced my drink with a flourish and winked at me. “So, what brings you here tonight, besides karaoke?”

Dick cleared his throat, drawing the barkeep’s unsettling attention from me. “We’re looking for Jay.”

“He still owe you money?” the brunet asked. “I don’t want any trouble, not with this crowd in here.”

“Yeah, but I gave up on collecting it a while ago,” Dick said. “Jay’s got more sob stories than an Oprah episode.”

“In that case, he’s right behind you, warming up for his Pat Benatar medley,” the bartender said, grinning at me. “Get a couple of drinks in them, and every vampire thinks he’s Celine Dion.”

I laughed as Dick turned and spotted a tall, towheaded vampire by the karaoke machine. Jay almost smiled, then realized who he was looking at and bolted.

“Go to the back exit,” Dick said before dashing after him through the crowd. “Cut him off if he circles back.”

“What is this, Cagney and Lacey?” I asked. “I am not Tyne Daly.”

The barkeep shrugged. “Just take it outside, please.”

Dick had caught up with Jay before he reached the front door, making my “circling back” unnecessary.

Jay had the face of an angel but apparently no spine. Strong chin, Roman nose, full pouting lips, the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. And because of the parallels to Adam, I took a bit of an instant dislike to him. His eyes darted wildly as I approached. “Is this is about that cash I owe you? Because I didn’t know where to find you after your trailer burned down. My phone got cut off because of a mix-up with the billing. My dog got sick. Who is she? Is this your enforcer? What’s she going to do? Is she going to cut off my nose? I told you, man, not necessary. I’ll get the money to you—”

“No, Jay, I kissed that money good-bye a long time ago,” Dick said, looking up to me. “Jay has a fixation on someone cutting off his nose.”

“To spite his face?” I chirped. Both Jay and Dick gave me blank looks. “Nobody gets me!”

“Jane, this handsome reprobate is Jay,” he said, standing Jay up and dusting off his shoulders. “Jay, this is my friend Jane.”

“Hey there, how you doing?” he said, grinning with the relief of an unexpected reprieve.

“Dick’s told me all about you. Don’t even try,” I lied, my tone a little snottier than I usually used in an introduction. I would not be charmed by a pretty face, I swore. I would not be charmed by a pretty face.

“Just because I’m not collecting doesn’t mean I won’t let her kick you in the goods,” Dick warned him. “She’s got a lot of repressed anger.”

“If it’s not about the money, why are you after me?” Jay whined.

Dick nodded to me, which apparently meant I was in charge of questioning. I guess I was Tyne Daly.

“A few years ago, you were working at Sunnyside Retirement Village—”

“Yeah, they fired me over a few missing watches. Can you believe that?” he huffed, indignant.

“I really can’t. In fact, I think it might have had a little more to do with you turning one of the patients into a vampire.”

“What?” Jay cried. “Why would I do that? They were half-dead anyway.”

“So you have no idea how Wilbur Goosen is still walking around?”

Jay gave me an innocent look that I’m sure many girls have lost their wallets and/or undergarments to. “Not really, no.”

Dick flicked Jay’s ear. “Talk to her, Jay.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” I asked when Jay yowled.

Dick paused flicking. “Because it bothers him. A lot.”

“OK, OK, so I turned the old guy. Nothing wrong with that,” Jay insisted. “He even paid me, a thousand dollars. He was going to rat me out, man. I needed that job. Do you know how many night-nurse positions there are for men out there? Not a lot. People seem to think that we can’t be trusted around the patients or something.”

“I can’t imagine,” I commented, my voice as dry as dust.

“I didn’t even give him the full dose. Just enough to make him wake up in three days. Sort of a halfsie.”

“So you did turn him into a ghoul? Dang it, Jay,” Dick growled. “You know we’re not supposed to do that.”

“What’s the big deal?” Jay whined. “It’s not like he would have been very strong anyway.”

I flicked Jay’s ear myself. “Yeah, no big deal. He’s just been bumping off human wives for about fifteen years, but what’s a few old ladies? I mean, you got a thousand dollars out of the deal, right?”

“What’s it to you?” Jay whined. “I’ve heard about you. You’ve had your share of run-ins with the council.”

“I’m going to be his step-granddaughter,” I said, flicking his ear again. “Ass!”

“Ow!” Jay cried. “Stop with the ears. Look, I was supposed to get Wilbur out of the home before the coroner got there. That was part of the deal. He wasn’t supposed to be declared dead or leave a paper trail. I mean, this was before the Coming Out. Nobody knew we existed. But I’d never made another vampire before. I didn’t know how tired it made you. I went to my trunk to lie down, and by the time I woke up, it was already daylight, and the body had been moved. So I went to the funeral home—”

“Because you were hoping he’d been embalmed and wouldn’t rise.”

“How was I supposed to know his family wouldn’t pay for a full funeral?” He snorted. “Cheap bastards.”

“Some people.” Dick shook his head piteously as we departed for his car.

“So, we’re square, right?” Jay called. “I don’t owe you, and you’re not going to call council? Right? Dick?”

Exhausted and confused, I slumped through the front door at River Oaks and passed the living-room door only to skid to a stop and backtrack. No, the eyes don’t lie. Mr. Wainwright and Aunt Jettie. Kissing.

“What the?” They jumped apart. “What is going on? Were you two making out?”

“No!” Aunt Jettie cried.

“Yes!” Mr. Wainwright admitted.

“Oh, come on. Dating Grandpa Fred wasn’t enough, now you’ve moved on to my surrogate grandpa? Wait, what about Grandpa Fred? Does he know?”

“Yes,” Aunt Jettie said, the slightest hint of color slipping into her translucent cheeks. “He was very upset about it. He and all of your other step-grandpas are refusing to speak to me. It’s cut me off from almost half the dead people in town.”

I glared at her. “So, you were sneaking off to be together.”

“We didn’t want to upset you or make you worry,” Mr. Wainwright said.

“We’re in love.”

“Oh, yuck. I mean, I’m happy for you, but this is just a lot to absorb. We’ll deal with this later, OK? After I’ve had some sleep. I love you guys, both of you. But for the love of all that’s good and decent, make yourselves invisible or something when you do that.”

19

While were clans place special emphasis on male leadership, it’s important to remember to show proper respect to the packs’ older women. They don’t lose their teeth until well into their 90s.

—Mating Rituals and Love Customs of the Were

I didn’t know if or how I was going to approach Grandma Ruthie with Jay’s information about Wilbur. Fortunately, that decision was taken out of my hands when I woke a few nights later to find her in my living room. With Wilbur. And my parents. And my sister.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. No matter how many times I changed the locks, Grandma Ruthie always managed to get in. River Oaks being her ancestral home, she felt she has the right to come and go whenever she wants. I considered an electric fence, but Jettie said it would ruin the aesthetics of the property.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

“Well, I thought that since you haven’t been able to make it to dinner lately, we would bring dinner to you. I’ll just pop this into the oven to keep it warm.” Mama clapped her hands in her excitement over “roast on the go.” She does love to take her food on tour. “I wanted to give you and your sister time to talk,” Mama stage whispered as she hustled me into the kitchen. “I think she’s ready to apologize to you.”