The Mourning Woods - 03 Read Free Page B

say it was a funny joke). When Gan, a three-hundred-year-old spoiled vampire brat, decided she was in love with me, her father was displeased . Unfortunately for me, her father was the Khan, a member of the Draculas. Even less fortunate, his way of voicing displeasure was to send a trio of his best assassins to cut off my head. Not only had they failed, but the whole mission had turned out to be a fatal mistake on his part.
     
    Unbeknownst to me at the time, he and his people were attacked while this debacle was going on. His forces depleted, the Khan’s coven was overrun with nary a sign of any survivors. The rest of the Draculas subsequently pinned the blame on me. Word had come down from them that I was expected to make things right. The only problem was they didn’t specify how . I had thus spent the last three months looking over my shoulder.
     
    At last, it seemed I was finally going to get my answer. Oh, well, at least I would know and according to GI Joe, that’s half the battle right there. Pity the rest of it would probably be slightly less fun.
     

Anticipation is a Killer
     
     
     
    Both of my roommates, bless their still-beating hearts, insisted on coming along after I filled them in on the news. Part of it was their friendship to me, of which I was grateful. As for the rest, well I’m not entirely stupid. I know morbid curiosity when I see it.
     
    While I was in China, James had absentmindedly dropped the name Alma to describe their enemies. An internet search had revealed that Alma was the Mongolian name for Bigfoot . To say that my friends, Tom especially, were excited about the prospect of a vampire/Sasquatch showdown would be an understatement. Hell, if I weren’t the one in danger of becoming a casualty of this grudge match, the eternal geek in me would have been pretty darn stoked about it too.
     
    Still, their willingness to stand by my side was welcome. Unfortunately, as I explained to them, I couldn’t bring them to my meeting with Sally. Normally vampires and humans mix about as well as people and nacho platters. As the leader of Village Coven (*sigh* It’s been almost a year and that name still sounds stupid!), I had decreed that my friends were off-limits. Even Sally had to agree with that one, as they had helped us both out on more than one occasion. Unfortunately, whoever was coming to see us wasn’t a part of my coven and thus weren’t beholden to my rules. If they were parched from their journey, then my roommates would make handy refreshments. I couldn’t let that happen.
     
    Thus, to all our chagrin, I had to turn them down and take a solo trip on the N-train toward Manhattan. Well OK, I wasn’t entirely alone. I had thoughts of dozens of horrific demises to keep me company. Lots of fun, I tell you.
     
    * * *
     
    The center of my undead “empire” is a place we simply refer to as the office. My coven rents out a few floors in a building close to NYU. Truth be told, we have lots of places both in and under SoHo (sewers may stink, but they tend to be free of pesky things like sunlight). Albeit currently a lot of that space is empty. A while back, half of my coven wound up permanently dead thanks to a combo of the Khan’s assassins and this little spat we had with another coven from Queens. Since then, despite Sally’s constant nagging, I’ve been hemming and hawing my way out of replenishing our ranks.
     
    I’m sorry, but I have a conscience about these things. For starters, I have no desire to refill my coven with the current types that dominate it. When I first “joined” the ranks of the undead, Village Coven was entirely populated by two types: uber-hot, but entirely vacuous, females, and pretty-boy douche bags. Sally was the lone exception. She’s as hot as they come, but she thinks circles around the rest. Hell, I’m not exactly an idiot myself, and I’d still think twice before going against her in a battle of wits.
     
    As for recruiting people more like