- •Author's Note
- •Chapter 1
- •It was a short list. My mom; my dad; my (sigh) stepmother, Antonia; her
- •It's not happening."
- •I glared at the two of them, but Tina and Eric kept babbling. I wasn't sure if they were ignoring me or honestly hadn't heard, so I took the mature route and just spoke louder.
- •I had to admit, I had no idea what Antonia (the werewolf, not my stepmother) saw in him.
- •Chapter 2
- •Chapter 3
- •In the movies, everybody would have stopped; Alonzo did, but Sophie was still shrieking and clawing at him, and I saw her tear a huge strip of skin off his shaved scalp.
- •Chapter 4
- •I turned to Alonzo. "This is quite a spot you've put me in."
- •I rolled up the sleeves of my special, Garrett-knitted, baby blue sweater. "Hey, you wanna go? Let's go. But you won't be picking on a kid waitress this time."
- •Chapter 5
- •I slumped lower on the couch. "Don't remind—wait. You think they should have stopped by sooner?"
- •Chapter 6
- •I crossed my legs and pointed my toe, an old trick that called attention to my (if I do say so myself—there weresome advantages to being a six-foot-tall dork) good legs. "Thanks," I said.
- •Chapter 7
- •It occurred to me, not for the first time, that I had very little clue what
- •I stuck a finger in Alonzo's bemused face. "Don't even think about it."
- •I trudged back to the parlor, laden with bags of baby crap and, of course, the baby.
- •Chapter 8
- •Chapter 9
- •I heard a car door slam outside and, annoyingly, Tina and Sinclair looked completely unsurprised.
- •I didn't knowwhat it was. But I could see the white Walgreens prescription bag peeking out of her purse. All of a sudden, I didn't want to be in this meeting.
- •Chapter 10
- •I died."
- •I glared up at her. "When I get off this floor I'm kicking the shit out of you.
- •Chapter 11
- •Chapter 12
- •I shivered. "Eric, I love you, but sometimes you give mesuch a case of the creeps."
- •Chapter 13
- •Chapter 14
- •Chapter 15
- •I, the fucking family calendar?
- •I didn't. Marjorie waited for me to catch on. I quietly trusted she had packed a lunch. Finally, she said, "Page forty-seven."
- •Chapter 16
- •I was beginning to feel like I was spending half my (new) life in parlors.
- •I nearly walked into a melting snowbank. "Seriously? You're asking me?" "I am but a loyal subject. Your will is my will."
- •I laughed.
- •Chapter 17
- •I slung my coat into the mudroom closet, kicked off my boots, and made for the kitchen.
- •I slunk into one of the chairs. "What people? It's her, and it's Liam. And no.
- •Chapter 18
- •I was hurt. Well, pretending to be. "Are you thaying I thould be athamed?
- •I glared. "You know, most sensible people would be scared of me."
- •Chapter 19
- •In fact, he'd shown up here a few months ago when he heard about my impending unholy nuptials. The gist of our conversation:
- •I could almost hear Sinclair in my head:Then don't .
- •I stammered, trying to say five things at once.
- •Chapter 20
- •I made a face. "Don't remind me."
- •Chapter 21
- •I had to laugh. The animals! Apparently all these studies had been done about how soothing and restful nursing home inmates—uh, residents—found live-in cats, dogs, and birds.
- •I shuddered, imagining Grandpa's wrath. As a member of The Greatest
- •Chapter 22
- •I stirred my tea, and simmered next to it. Like Korben Dallas inThe Fifth
- •I swung open the door.
- •I took a step forward, fragile baby-and-poop bomb bouncing tenderly in my arms. My mouth was beginning to hurt. "Sometimes, I just feel like I'm going to break, you know what I mean? Can you imagine?"
- •Chapter 23
- •Chapter 24
- •I swallowed my irritation. Cathie had had a hard life. Or death, rather. She was lonely. She was bitchy. I was the only person she could bug. Talk to, rather.
- •Chapter 25
- •It took a long time to find the door.
- •Chapter 26
- •I tried to squash the traitorous thought
- •Chapter 27
- •Chapter 28
- •It was coming from Alonzo's body.
- •Chapter 29
- •I looked around at the others. "When you use euphemisms like 'take care of it' and stuff, are we, I just wanted to make sure, are we talking about the same thing?"
- •I turned and walked a little ways away from the group. "Then you came over here and did it?"
- •I closed the phone and turned back to the group. "Okay! Where were we?
- •Chapter 30
- •I shook my head; if he was looking for answers, he had the wrong girl. "I'm so fucking thirsty right now," I admitted, "it's hard to get worked up about anything."
- •I followed her, groaning. What fresh hell was this? Couldn't I ever get a break? And why was Jess even bothering me with this stuff? She knew I
Chapter 15
Because things weren't awful enough, an hour later Marjorie the scary librarian popped by and chimed the bell. I put my foot down: no. Just because people—
"Very old, very powerful vampires," Sinclair interrupted. —stopped by without proper planning or scheduling— "She says it's an emergency. You want her to plan her emergencies?" —didn't mean I had to drop everything and rush to the parlor.
"No one was in the parlor," Marjorie announced, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen, "so I let myself in."
Tina followed closely on the librarian's heels with a pained, helpless expression. I gave Sinclair a look.
"Ah," he began. "Marjorie. So good to see you again. But perhaps now—"
"Majesty," the elder vampire said, dipping her head. "Very rude to barge in, I know; but what I have is extremely important."
"Of course it is," I sighed. "A nice new crisis you're gonna drop in my lap."
"Are you suggesting, Majesty, that I should let all important matters run their course without your intervention?" She smiled a little and fiddled with her sweater cuffs.
No, just call first.
Marjorie looked around the kitchen approvingly. The big wooden table in the center had plenty of chairs for all of us. More than enough to hold Sinclair, Tina, Jessica, and me. Everybody else was—heck, I didn't know, what was
I, the fucking family calendar?
Marjorie was a severe-looking woman of ordinary height, dark hair 'with gray wings at the temples, and sensible shoes. She ran the vampire library in the warehouse district—the biggest, I had been told, in the Midwest.
She tried to keep tabs on all vampires, recently turned or otherwise, kept their mortgages and bills paid up (in the case of new vampires, that was especially nice… if they ever came back to themselves they would find a home and their credit rate unaltered), kept nice neat computer files (or, in earlier ages, carefully maintained paper files) on everyone she could. How did she do that? No one knew.
Anyway, she had been around before Nostro's time (Nostro = deceased disgusting despot), and before Nostro's sire's time, too. She had little
interest in explicit displays of power, which was probably good news for the rest of us. Just stayed in her library, organizing lives, collecting a different sort of power—one that wasn't so intrusive, but nevertheless caught our attention when gently applied.
Anyway, she had that look of relieved approval because she saw a traditional scene that must have warmed her heart: the king and queen, with lackey (Tina) in attendance, with presumed blood-sheep (Marc and Jessica) close at hand.
"Nice to see you again, Dr. Spangler," she said, since I wasn't reintroducing her to anybody.
"Hi, uh—sorry, I—" "Marjorie."
"Right." He'd been heads together with Jessica until a few seconds ago, but now he was looking downright flustered. Marjorie had that effect on humans. She could snap her fingers and Marc or Jess would have obediently opened a vein. "Nice to see you again."
"Thank you."
A short silence followed while Marjorie waited for us to dismiss the peons.
"So," I said before Eric could speak, because he actuallywould have dismissed the peons, "what brings you to Summit Avenue?"
"This," she said, whipping out—a gun! A knife! A brick!
No, my nerves were just a little overwrought. It was—
Tina frowned, causing a neat wrinkle to form between her eyes. It made her look positively ancient—twenty-five instead of her usual eighteen. "That's a book catalog."
"Correct."
"Thank all that is holy and unholy," I proclaimed with even less patience than usual, "that you didn't waste a second getting this over here! Why, we've been combing this entire mansion, top to bottom, for a book catalog. Our need has never been more dire."
"Specifically," Marjorie said, slapping it down on the table, "it's the Berkley Fall catalog for this year."
Sinclair closed his eyes.
"Yes, well that is the Holy Grail of book catalogs," I said, still walking the line between playing along and suggesting to this woman that she leave before my head exploded.
Sinclair didn't say anything, but his grim look and slight shake of the head suggested he knew where this was going.