Undead and Unwed Read Free

mom's hand and started dragging her toward the relative safety of
Lake Street
.
      "I'll—"
      "Come on , Mommy!"  
      "—get help!"
      "Don't you dare," I snapped. "If you mess up my murder, I'll be furious." One of the men had grabbed my arm, was dragging me back toward Justine and her mom. "Just a minute, pal, I've got to—" He poked me, hard, and without thought I shoved.
      The rest of it happened awfully fast. Jerkoff #1 hadn't poked me, he'd stabbed me—for all the good it did. And when I shoved, his feet left the ground and he sailed back as if hurricane-force winds had blown him. When he finally touched ground he rolled for a good ten feet before he regained his feet and ran like he'd had one too many chimichangas and needed a bathroom.
      While I was staring and making my usual vocalization when I didn't understand ("Wha...?"), the other two moved in. I reached up and grabbed them by the backs of their necks, then banged their heads together. There was a sickening crunch, and I heard—yech!—their skulls cave in. It was the sound I'd heard at my cousin's wedding when her groom stomped on the glass. The bad guys dropped to the ground, deader than disco. Their faces were frozen in eternal expressions of pissed-off.
      I nearly threw up into their staring faces. "Oh, shit !"  
      "Thank you thank you thank you!" Justine's mom was in my arms, reeking of fear and Dune perfume. She was clutching me with not-inconsiderable strength and babbling into my hair. I wriggled, trying to extricate myself without hurting her. "Ohmygod I thought they were going to rape me kill me hurt Justine kill Justine thank you thank you thank you!"
      "Err...that's fine, Miss—uh, miss. Leggo now, there's a nice hysteric."  
      She let go of me, still babbling, staggered a few feet away, knelt, and started picking up the items that had fallen from her purse. I instantly wanted to grab her back. Something about her—the blood, the—she had scraped herself, or one of the men had cut her, and she was bleeding, the blood was flowing beneath her shirt, on the inside of her upper arm, and it trickled steadily and suddenly I was so thirsty I couldn't breathe.
      Justine was staring up at me. Her tears had dried, making her cheeks shine in the moonlight. She looked very, very thoughtful. And about five years older than she'd looked five minutes ago. She pointed. "Doesn't that hurt like crazy?"
      I looked down, then jerked the knife out of my side. Very little blood. "No. Thanks. Uh...don't be scared. Anymore, I mean."
      "Why'd you ask them to kill you?"
      Normally I wouldn't share unpleasant confidences with a strange child, but what could I say? It had been one of those nights. Plus, she had pointed out the knife sticking out of my ribs; I felt obliged to give her an honest answer. "I'm a zombie," I explained, except I was having trouble talking, all of a sudden. "I'm trying to thtay dead."
      "You're not a zombie." She pointed at my mouth. "You're a vampire. A good one, so that's all right," she added.
      My hand came up so quickly I actually bit myself. I felt the sharp tips of new fangs, fangs that had come out when I'd smelled her mother's blood, fangs that seemed to be taking up half my mouth.
      "A vampire? How ith that pothible? I died in a car ackthident, for God'th thake! Aw, thon of a bith!"
      "Are you going to suck our blood?" Justine asked curiously.
      "Blood maketh me throw up. Even the thight of it—ugh."
      "Not anymore, I bet," she said. This was the most level-headed first-grader I'd ever met. I was tempted to make her my evil sidekick. "It's okay. You can if you want to. You saved us. My mom," she said, her tone dropping; it was low, confidential, "was really scared."
      She's not the only one, sugar...and by the way, I bet you'd taste like electricity, all that youth and energy coursing through your bloodstream.
      I clapped both hands over my mouth and started backing away. "Run," I said, but