Never Cross a Vampire Read Free Page A

most formidable-looking member of the group. I looked back at him with my innocent brown eyes and a mouth full of warm Pepsi. He turned slowly away.
    â€œAre you interested in joining?” Billings said eagerly.
    â€œI don’t know.” I shifted my weight on the coffin to reach for the last of the crackers. Billings’ hand indicated the impulse to race me for the remnants, but courtesy and the possibility of new blood stayed his chunky grasp.
    â€œThese people are the only ones who know about the meetings?”
    Billings put down his now-finished Hires, stifled a burp, and said, “We are secret and exclusive.”
    I turned my head to the group of vampires and Lugosi, whose eyes moved from his tormentors to me to the door.
    â€œCan you tell me who everyone is?” I said, looking casually around and trying not to choke on my cracker.
    â€œCertainly,” said Billings. “There’s Baroness Zendelia, Sir Malcolm.”
    â€œNo,” I pushed in. “Their real names.”
    â€œNo,” Billings countered, sitting up to his full five foot five. “That is private. Our human identities must remain secret.”
    â€œThen how do you mail notices to them?” I tried, but Billings had other things on his mind.
    â€œWell … you think these coffins are a bit hard? I’ve thought of putting cushions on them, but it might look too tacky.”
    â€œHow about red velvet?” I suggested.
    â€œMaybe,” Billings sighed, unconvinced, as he looked at the empty cracker dish.
    Lugosi was clearly trying to break through the ring of bodies, and I considered the possibility of following the most likely suspect in the group but gave it up. The odds were too slim, the hour too late, and my gas too low. Lugosi made his way through the group and advanced toward me. I stood up and Billings joined me, almost falling back on his coffin.
    â€œWhose idea was it to invite Mr. Lugosi tonight?” I asked Billings loud enough for the others to hear and tried to make it sound like the start of a thank-you-for-the-lovely-evening. Lugosi was at my shoulder listening, the quartet of fluttering capes in pursuit.
    â€œI don’t recall,” said Billings, playing with his fangs.
    â€œIt was mine,” whispered the dark woman, her voice somewhat foreign, amused, and a little sleepy. She stared immodestly at my much-traveled neck and I pulled up my collar.
    â€œNo,” interjected a lean vampire with a jagged nose and a too-small cape that choked his words into a crimson gasp. His accent was definitely more New York Jewish than Transylvanian.
    â€œNo, no,” came in the Chinese vampire, billowing his broad cape and elbowing his way to the foreground. The cape was so long that he stepped on it and tripped forward into Lugosi.
    The tall dark vampire who had been looking at me earlier was the only one who didn’t try to take any credit.
    â€œAnybody oppose the invitation?” I tried, knowing no one would admit it in Lugosi’s presence but hoping vampire competition would emerge.
    â€œNo, why?” asked the Chinese guy.
    â€œBecause,” Lugosi said with a broad smile. “I like to be welcome. And I half-enjoyed our visit, but the sands of time fall relentlessly and the dawn approaches.” Lugosi pointed in the general direction of the dawn somewhere above the moldy ceiling. We headed for the stairs, the vampires behind us. I could feel the warm breath of the woman behind me, and I imagined her eyes on my not-too-clean collar.
    They escorted us up the narrow stairs, through the theater lobby and to the door, where hands reached out to pass me my coat and Lugosi his coat and Homburg hat.
    We exchanged thanks, well wishes, invitations, undying love, and promises to be pen pals before we opened the door.
    â€œGood night,” Lugosi said over his shoulder and stepped into the cold darkness with me behind. In the past week, temperatures had hit lows