Just One Bite Read Free Page B

ya?).
Never misses confession.
     
    I was so dead.
    The realization hit me as I reread the list. Then I did what any born vamp on the verge of total annihilation would do (at least any born vamp with a zest for life and an addiction to pink)—I panicked.
    A full-fledged I-can-feel-the-stake-sliding-between-my-rib-cage panic. Which was the only explanation for what happened next.
    The phone rang and I snatched it up without checking the caller ID.

Three

    “D ead End Dating,” I said as I picked up the receiver. “If you’ve got the money—that includes check, Visa or MasterCard—we’ve got the time.” I know. It reeked as far as catchy jingles went, but I’d just been threatened by a bona fide vampire killer. Gimme a break. “Lil Marchette,” I added. “How can I help you?”
    “You can call me back once in a while.” Jacqueline Marchette’s familiar voice carried over the line. “I’ve left six messages. But then that’s how it goes. You shed blood, sweat, and tears to give afterlife to three beautiful, healthy children, and how do they repay you? They ignore your phone calls when you’re this close to picking up a gun and ending it all.”
    “You don’t own a gun, Ma.”
    “Maybe not, but your father bought a paintball Uzi to use on Viola.”
    Viola was an ultrastylish werewolf who lived next door to my parents. She was president of the Connecticut chapter of the Naked and Unashamed Nudist Sisterhood (a group of female werewolves that met weekly at her Fairfield estate) and a Democrat. And the recently court-ordered owner of the controversial patch of azalea bushes that sat on the property line between the two estates.
    My father was still pissed over the ruling. That, and the fact that his prized chain saw (which he’d used to chop down said azaleas time and time again) had mysteriously fallen into Viola’s possession (it’s a long story).
    “The thing looks real,” my mother went on, “and it causes the most painful-looking bruises.”
    “Don’t tell me he really shot her?”
    “Actually, he shot himself in the foot when he was trying to load the blasted thing. He’s lucky there were only five balls in the barrel, otherwise he might have put out an eye and bled all over my Berber rug.”
    “Is he okay?”
    “He’s a vampire, dear. Of course he’s okay. In fact, he’s already healed. He’s cocked and loaded as we speak, and skulking around the backyard. Viola’s having one of her get-togethers tonight and he’s got this absurd notion that he’s going to cause a diversion by peppering her yard statues with paint. While she and her guests are on the back patio examining the damage, he’ll sneak onto her property and steal back that bloody chain saw. Or at least that’s the plan at the moment.”
    “Isn’t that against the law?”
    “That’s what I told him, but he says since it’s his in the first place, he’s not breaking the law if he takes it back.”
    “What if he can’t find it?”
    “He moves on to Plan B.”
    “Which is?”
    “Hiring someone named Fast Hands Freddie to do it for him. The man specializes in organized-crime hits, but he’s good with burglaries, as well. Your father found him in the phone book under Hands-on Business Consultants, and all of this is beside the point. I deserve, at the very least, a phone call, don’t you think?” She went silent for a long moment and I shifted in my seat.
    In addition to the standard superpowers, all born vamps possess a special power unique to each of them. My oldest brother Max could summon a thunderstorm. My middle brother Rob could redirect the wind. My youngest brother Jack could command a burst of fire. I could sniff out a sale within a five-mile radius. My mother? She could heap on the guilt with nothing more than a moment of calculated silence.
    My panic quickly fled, swamped by a wave of self-loathing.
    “Geez, Ma. I’ve been with a client since I walked in the door and I haven’t even had time to check