Undead and Done Read Free Page B

lip stuff women put on when they wanted something fancier than ChapStick but not a full-on date-night mouth. And she was too tall, and her eyes were all wrong. He’d never have chosen her to be his love if he’d seen her in life. Cathie had that honor, not this new devil.
    (Putting that aside, if he had seen her in life and tried to make them as one, would he be a vampire now? Or just in Hell? Or both?)
    Never mind any of that; on the outside, at least, there were millions just like her in Minnesota alone; she was nothing special. Her clothes were just as unexceptional: khakis in that style that made it look like they were too short (capris?), a light blue sweater, high heels of some kind.
    She was suddenly sucking on a straw and he realized she’d gotten a large cup of something, though he hadn’t seen her order anything in the food court, and she’d left with only him, not him and a drink or
    (so much better!)
    Cathie and him and a drink.
    â€œIs that . . . uh.” Was he really? Was he going to chat with the vampiredevil like this was an ordinary office and he was an ordinary man? Ask her about her diet, for God’s sake? “Are you . . . um.”
There is no polite way to ask Satan 2.0 if she’s slurping blood out of an Orange Julius cup. None. None at all.
    She figured out what he was (not) asking and shook her head. “Strawberry smoothie.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œIt’s less gross than blood,” she explained, “though there are more seeds to contend with.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI
love
blood. But I don’t like it. Y’know?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo then. Let’s have it.”
    â€œWhat?” The slurping. The slurping was working on his nerves like a small string of firecrackers tossed into a dirty street, just
pop pop pop poppoppop and smoke and more unbearable loud sharp sounds and dust everywhere, filth all over this was a bad idea this was a VERY BAD IDEA.
    â€œHey! Stay away from the light, pal. Keep your focus. Your life story,” she prompted.
    So he told her, and she nodded here and there and grimaced a few times, but mostly she let him talktalktalk, and when he was done he felt a little better, not clean, exactly—only Cathie could make him clean—but a bit less wretched.
    â€œWow,” was all she said after a long moment. She sucked in more smoothie and then
    (thank you thank you)
    put the cup on the desk, leaned back in her chair, and stretched out her long, long legs. “Your entire life.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWas severely fucked up.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhich you decided to take out on several innocent women who had never harmed you in any way.”
    He said nothing. It seemed safest. And they weren’t
several women
, they were his loves, his terriblewonderfuls.
    They sat in silence for a moment, until she broke it. “So . . . dying didn’t get rid of the crazy.”
    He blinked. “The crazy what?”
    â€œI mean, this is exactly how you thought when you were killing short, dark-eyed blondes in their driveways, right? D’you know, my friends were worried you’d come after me?”
    â€œI would never,” he protested, trying not to stare at her legs, ugh, the gangly things took up half the office it was so off-putting women were supposed to be short so men could
    (help them have them save them use them and GET HOLD RIGHT NOW)
    â€œYou’re not my type,” he managed, and oh thank God she seemed more amused by that than anything else that had happened in the last half hour.
    â€œNo? You’d never have tried to bag me for your collection?”She grinned at him and he noticed how white her teeth were. And . . . sharp. Of course. “That’s too bad. My friends were worried, but I’d kind of hoped you’d try something.”
    He shook his head. “Never.” He felt like retching; her