Undead and Unwed Read Free Page A

I didn't have to bother; Justine's mama had finished gathering up her things, taken one look at my new dentition, picked up her daughter, and run in the opposite direction.
      "There'th a gath thtathion at the end of this block!" I yelled after her. "You can call triple A!" I stuck my fingers in my mouth. My lisp was going away, and so were my fangs. "And what were you thinking, having your daughter out at four o'clock in the morning?" I shouted after her, freshly annoyed. "Dope!"
      People think because Minneapolis was in the Midwest, rapes and murders and burglaries didn't happen there. They do, just not as often as, say, in Washington
D.C.
I'd bet a thousand bucks the car that had broken down on them was a rental.
      Well, the mystery was solved. I was a vampire. How, I had no idea. Car accident victims did not rise from the dead. So I'd always thought, anyway.
      Unless...could it have something to do with my attack a few months ago? The attackers had been savage, snarling, barely human. Until tonight, it had been the most surreal thing to happen to me, and that included the tax audit and my folks' divorce. Could the attackers have infected me?  
      And why was I still me? Now that I was a ravenous member of the undead, I should be sucking little girls dry and then lunching on their mamas. The men in the alley had been asshole predators, but I was still horrified when I accidentally killed two of them. I'd let Justine and her mom go—had ordered them to go. I was thirstier than I'd ever been in my—uh—life, but it wasn't ruling me. I wasn't an animal. I was still me, Betsy, desperately in love with fine footwear and ready to give my eyeteeth (or my new fangs) for Russell Crowe's autograph.
      Russell Crowe...now there was someone who'd make a delightful snack.
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
      "Father," I said, "you have to help me."
      "I'll be glad to, but I'm not a priest."
      "I'm going to Hell, and I didn't do a damned thing to deserve being damned. Except for that whole double homicide thing. But it was an accident! Plus, I should get points for saving Justine and her mom."
      "I'm not a priest, miss. I'm the janitor. And this isn't a Catholic church—we're Presbyterians."
      "Can you burn me up with holy water?" I had the man by the shirt, was pulling him up on his toes—he was about three inches shorter than me. "Poke me to death with your crucifix?"
      He gifted me with a sweet, loopy grin. "You're pretty."
      Surprised, I let go of him. He did a shocking thing, then—flung his arms around me and kissed me. Hard. Really very hard, and he put a lot into it, too; his tongue was poking into my mouth and something hard and firm was pressing against my lower belly. He tasted like Wheaties.
      I gently pushed him away, but even so he flew over the pew and landed with a jarring thud near the pulpit. The grin didn't waver and neither, unfortunately, did his erection; I could see the small tent in his chinos. "Do it again," he sighed.
      "Oh, for—just—sleep it off!" I snapped and, to my surprise, his head dropped onto his shoulder and he started to snore. Drunk, then...sure. I should have smelled it on him.
      I took another look and cursed myself—of course he was the janitor; he was dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt that read "D&E Cleaning: We'll Get Your Mess!" In my keyed-up panic, I'd grabbed the first person I had seen. He'd grabbed me back, but that was only fair.
      I was still surprised I had managed to get inside the church without bursting into flame. But nothing like that had happened. The door had opened easily and the church was the way they all were: forbidding, yet comforting, like a beloved but stern grandparent.
      I cautiously sat down on a pew, expecting a severe ass burning. Nothing happened. I touched the Bible in front of me...nothing. Rubbed the Bible all over my face—nope.
      Dammit! Okay, I was a vampire. Shocking, but I was getting used to it. Except vampire rules weren't