Holy hell. I jerked awake trying to figure out where I was. This Vampyre crap was messing with my sleep. What time was it? What in the hell was I doing here? Wait... I was home... in my bed. I was okay. I had just taken a nap.
I was home in my own bedroom and I’d had the dream.
Again.
Damn that Lady in the Tomb. She usually only popped into my dreams once a month or once every few months. Now she was popping in every other night. I was getting closer to getting her out of that tomb. I supposed if the dream kept rearing its bizarre head, I’d have her out of there by the end of the week.
I considered going back to sleep, but the movement on my ceiling caught my attention. Rachel, Ross, Honest Abe, and Beyonce were tap dancing. I’d named my monsters. I figured since I’d arrived in Crazytown, I may as well take off my coat and stay a while. It was odd. Out of all the little monsters living on my ceiling, the four of them really stood out. It started slowly with a shy nod and a wave, and then progressed to a full on dance party by day five.
I decided after a week and a half of bonding, and dancing, that they deserved better than just being called ‘monster’. Hence their names, given because of their uncanny resemblance to their historical counterparts. I loved them and they loved me. No one could take them away, not even my mother.
My little ugly babies didn’t eat, poop or bite. They lived on the ceiling and disappeared when anyone else was near. They were my three inch tall bundles of love. They were perfect and they were tremendous dancers. Their tango demonstration last night nearly brought me to tears of laughter. I hadn’t told anyone about them yet. I was afraid they would go away if I revealed their existence. I’d already given up so much. I wouldn’t take the chance of losing my monsters.
They often foreshadowed my evenings ahead. Tonight they were agitated. Very agitated.
They were slapping themselves and making high-pitched clicking sounds, which was like a cross between a cricket on speed and those wind-up teeth that chatter. The sounds were new. The more we interacted the more we could communicate. They loved when I flicked my fingers and shot breezes of Glitter Magic at them. They ate it up. Literally. They ate it, and then they ran around screaming and laughing like little drunks.
Their agitation tonight was unsettling. “I wish you guys could talk,” I muttered, getting dressed. I pulled on a super cool hot pink Juicy sweat suit that hugged my bottom just right and my brand new gold sequined UGG boots. My monsters approved. Their clapping and whistling made me giggle. I bowed. “Thank you, thank ... ”
“Who in the hell are you talking to?”
“Shit,” I yelled, jerking around and slamming my head on the bed frame so hard I saw stars. “How many times have I told you to knock?” I hissed at Pam, who looked like hell warmed over. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Your mother is here.”
My little monsters screamed bloody murder and disappeared back into the ceiling. I quickly glanced at Pam to see if she’d heard them, but she gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.
“Are you sure?” I panicked. I paced my room frantically. I felt my fangs descend and my eyes go green. This was not good.
“Yes,” she replied, equally as panicked.
“Wait.” I stopped. “How do you know it’s my mother?”
“What do I look like to you?” Pam demanded.
“Oprah Winfrey?” I replied, confused by the question.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m an Angel. I know these things,” she yelled.
“Hold. On.” I said with excitement, “Can you see the future?”
“Not down here I can’t,” she muttered, running her hand through her already frightening hair. “My boss... that would be GOD to you... much to my great disgust gave you imbeciles free will. So even if I could see the future, it can change on a dime because you idiots are as flighty as gnats.”
“But you can see it up there?” I insisted, pointing to Heaven.
“Sometimes,” she carefully replied.
“Did you see any of this before you came down?” I waited.
“Only up until three days ago.” Pam sounded so tired. “Now I occasionally have visions, and I know your mother being here is not a good thing.”
“Can she see you?”
“No. Not if I don’t want her to,” Pam said.
I was shocked, “You mean you can control that?”
“Of course I can, Asswad. I am more powerful than you will ever know. Now suck your fangs up, turn your eyes back to gold, and get your sorry ass down to your kitchen and... ”
“Hello, Astrid,” my mother said from my doorway. “Who are you talking to?”
“Shit,” I screamed, slapping my hand over my mouth and lowering my eyelids ‘til they were mere slits. Please God, please God, please God—don’t let her have seen my fangs. I could explain my eyes away as contacts, but there was no way to explain two inch razor sharp fangs.
“That’s a lovely way to greet your mother,” she said as her eyes narrowed. How did she do that? I felt like I was thirteen and got caught looking at naked guys on the Internet.
She tucked her perfectly coiffed hair behind her diamond studded ear and crossed her arms across her perfectly appointed chest. There she stood in her chic summer Chanel suit, pearls and low heeled pumps. Subtle makeup, light perfume and a slight tan. As Pam would say, absofuckinlutely perfect.
Pam watched my mother’s every move with a look of utter disgust and revulsion. I supposed Nana had filled Pam in on my mother while they were hanging out in Heaven.
My mother was a beautiful untouchable ice queen. She was blonde, fair skinned and had huge violet-blue eyes framed by unnaturally long lashes, high cheekbones and a Cupid’s bow mouth. She looked crazy young for her age, which I happened to know was forty-six. More often than not, people thought she was my sister. She had me when she was sixteen.
As a child, I often wished she had given me up for adoption, but then I wouldn’t have had my Nana. I’d have gone to hell and back for my Nana. How my Nana spawned such a frozen piece of work is beyond me... but she did. My mother’s name was Petra, which was perfect. It meant stone.
“You’re looking quite good for someone who was so sick,” she said, taking in my messy room with displeasure.
“Thank you, Petra,” I said with my hand still covering my fangs. Go up, go up, go up... they did. Thank you, Jesus.
“Oh darling, you don’t have to call me Petra,” she laughed. Her laugh reminded me of ice breaking from limbs after a huge winter storm. The kind that looks beautiful, but kills.
Darling? What the fu... ?
I looked around the room, convinced there had to be someone here she was trying to fool with her loving mother routine. Nope, just me, her, and an invisible Angel.
“I... I thought that’s what you wanted me to call you, so... um, no one knew you were my mother.” The small, childlike voice that came out of my mouth disgusted me. Oh shit, I was going to cry. God, I hated myself. I was a grown woman. Why did I let her do this to me?
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she trilled. “I’m your mother... your mommy,” she smiled.
Did Pam just growl?
Who in the hell was standing in my bedroom? It looked like my mother, but it definitely was not my mother. My mother had never been loving in any way. Ever. All sorts of impossible things had happened lately, though. For God’s sake, I was a Vampyre with a Guardian Angel and my own personal Fairy. I suppose Martians could have come down and inhabited her body... or maybe she’d changed.
She put her arms out and approached me. I cautiously took a step closer. I awkwardly moved into her arms. It felt uncomfortable and wrong.
“Sweetheart, you feel so cold,” said my concerned mother with a bizarre satisfaction in her voice.
“I’m fine.” I tried to return her smile, but old habits were hard to break.
Her smile was still plastered on, but being so close to her I could see it didn’t reach her
eyes. Alrighty then, she was still my mother.
“I came by to tell you something,” she said, gracefully but firmly disengaging herself from me. Crap, I didn’t realize I was holding on to her. Would I never learn? She circled me, examining me like a car or a horse.
“Being sick agrees with you, Astrid,” she said, “you have never looked so good in your life.” Why did her compliments always feel like a slap? “Yes... you look good, but a bit pale. Maybe you should get some sun, Astrid. Don’t you think you should get some sun, dear?”
“Well, I... um,” I stammered. I felt caught like a deer in the headlights.
“Oh, but you shouldn’t go out in the sun, should you, Astrid?” she asked, pointedly.
“What do you mean?” I whispered. Did she know? How could she know? People didn’t even believe in Vampyres.
“I mean, people like you shouldn’t go out in the sun... the sun will age you. It will give you sun spots and cancer,” she laughed.
Was she screwing with me?
“Actually, Astrid darling, that’s why I’m here,” she said. “I have cancer and I’m going to die. I’ll probably be dead within the week. My will is in order, so you have nothing to... ” She stopped.
I was laughing. Like a hyena. What in the hell was she talking about? Cancer? Dying? In a week? She looked like a million bucks. Cancer, my ass. With extreme effort I pulled myself together.
“Petra... I mean, Mother... I am so sorry, but if that’s a joke it’s awful. Is there something you want?”
Ice settled in the pit of my stomach. Shit, she was getting pissed. She tilted her head to the left. Left equaled pissed. Right equaled ballistic.
“Mother, come on,” I said, trying desperately to lighten the mood, “if you want something from me, just ask. You don’t have to tell me you’re dying to get me to do something.”
If I could breathe I’d be hyperventilating. If looks could kill I would be lying dead on the floor right now.
“I am not lying,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want anything from you. I have never wanted anything from you. You are a stupid, directionless girl. At least now you’ve done one thing right and I would hope that you won’t fuck that up too. I’ll be dead by Friday. Everything is in order. I’d like to say my goodbyes now and not be bothered with any soul-searching or last minute bonding.”
I blinked. Did she say fuck? I had never heard her say fuck. It sounded so odd. Don’t get me wrong, the emotional beating she just dished out coupled with her bizarre death wish was painful, but I was used to that. I’d just never heard her say fuck.
She walked to my bedroom door. She stopped, not bothering to turn around. “When I’m gone, I hope you’ll remember me fondly. I’ll try to visit you in your dreams. Look for me.”
She left.
Was she high? Oh God, please don’t let her into my dreams. I have enough problems trying to get that poor woman out of the tomb. I didn’t need some bipolar demon mother telling me what a pathetic disappointment I’d been while I slept. What was she talking about—done something right?
My little monsters had been correct. This day sucked.
Chapter Ten
The hardest part about being a Vampyre—forget the not smoking part, I didn’t even miss it much anymore—was that Black Raspberry Chip ice cream, as well as chips and salsa were no longer part of my daily existence. I had always claimed that Black Raspberry Chip was better than sex. Even though I couldn’t eat it from the carton anymore, I stood by my statement.
To that point, I discovered something earth-shattering tonight.
Whatever Gemma ate I could taste in her blood! It didn’t work with Pam or The Kev—just Gem. I was beginning to think The Kev might be on to something. Gemma did have the Magic. So as Gemma happily scarfed down her second pint of Black Raspberry Chip, I happily scarfed down Gemma.
I licked Gemma’s wrist, closing the punctures. “God, I feel drunk.”
“Me too,” Gemma giggled. “I haven’t eaten that much sugar in one sitting in years!”
“Unfortunately I’m not drunk enough to forget about Petra’s impending death schedule.”
“Do you believe her?” Gemma asked, examining her wrist.
“I have no clue what to think. Oh God, did I take too much blood?” I asked, concerned.
“You can’t,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I’m not sure.” Gemma licked the spoon, put it back in the carton and started humming ‘ABC’.
“Her blood replaces itself immediately,” The Kev said with pride. Did he just run his hand over her bottom?
“Are you sure?” I asked him.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s nothing I can explain, it’s just something I know.” He smiled down at Gemma and touched her hair. She blushed.
Could she not see that he was wearing obscenely short teal running shorts? Teal women’s running shorts? He’d paired these with a sunshine yellow wife beater and a royal blue bandana on his head. This was the finest example of love is blind that I’d ever seen.
“Watch it,” Pam snarled, entering the room and shoving me off the couch with her big ol’ butt. “Gemma is not human. I don’t know what in the hell she is, but it ain’t mortal.” She picked up the ice cream and took up where Gem had left off. “You know what that means for Assssstrid here?” she demanded from all three of us.
“No,” I groaned, “but I can just bet you’re gonna tell us.”
“Yes, Assbag, I am,” she said with a mouthful of Black Raspberry Chip. “It means you still have not had mortal blood and I have absofuckinlutely no idea what we may have turned you into.”
“Well,” The Kev hesitated, looking everywhere but at Pam, “she’s shown strength—at times equal to mine—but she can’t maintain it,” he quickly added.
“What did you say?” Pam bellowed at him, slamming the ice cream down on the coffee table.
“She can’t maintain it,” he insisted.
“You,” she pointed at The Kev, “are a two thousand year old Fairy. There is no way in hell she can come close to your strength.”
“She shouldn’t be able to, but she can,” he muttered, fussing with his do-rag.
“You’re two thousand?” I asked. “I thought you were fifteen hundred.”
“Oh, for the gosh of sakes, everyone shaves a few hundred years off their age after a certain point. Just ask Pam.”
“Don’t ask Pam nothin’,” she spat. “You freakin’ Fairies are so full of shit. You should have told me she was as strong as you. Give me your hand.”
I did.
She produced a wicked-looking blade out of thin air and sliced into my palm before I even knew what happened. Gemma shrieked and tried to save me from further butchering, but The Kev held her back. I screamed in pain and tried to grab the knife from Pam, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“Look at your hand,” Pam demanded, snapping me out of my pain-induced haze. While it definitely bled, it was closing up immediately.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “I heal like an old, old Vampyre.”
“Yep,” Pam said, staring daggers at The Kev. “How much Fairy blood has she had?”
“A lot,” he admitted, “but she needed it. I beat her up good.” He smiled gently at me, like a proud father. “She’s an excellent fighter now and she is controlling her Magic beautifully. As soon as she has weapons training she will be able to go against the best. Eventually she will be unbeatable. She will become a master.”
“She’d better,” Pam grunted, “because with all her fuckin’ bells and whistles, quite a few Vamps are going to want a piece of her.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” The Kev said hopefully.
“Yes... yes, we do,” Pam said so quietly I almost missed it.
Gemma sat on the couch looking pale and confused. I suppose I’d be thrown for a loop if I watched my best friend get sliced and found out the guy/Fairy I was crushing on was two thousand ye
ars old. I mean, what the fu... ?
Not only that, I knew she was having a tough time with my friendship with Venus. I needed to get them together, but both of them were being butts about it.
“Okay, both of you need to relax your cracks,” I said to The Kev and Pam. “I’m strong and magical and loaded with the potential to have every Vampyre I meet for the rest of my very unnaturally long life want to kick my ass or kill me. Whatever. What I’m concerned and freaked about is my mother.”
“Oh good God, that woman is pure evil.” Pam threw her hands in the air and fell back on the couch.
“She scares The Kev,” he muttered, pacing around the room.
“Do you think she knows?” Gemma asked me.
“I do. I really think she knows I’m a Vampyre, but that’s impossible.”
“No,” Pam said. “It’s not impossible, and she definitely knows.”
“Is she really going to die on Friday?” I could feel the tears welling up. Why did I even care? She wouldn’t give a shit if I died.
“You’re right, she wouldn’t,” Pam said.
“What? You can read my mind now?” I practically screamed at her.
“No,” she said, reaching out for me, “your face.”
I went to her. Pam had been more of a mother to me in the month I’d known her than Petra had been my entire life. Pam’s love may have been filled with wicked-looking knives and swear words delivered at decibels guaranteed to make your ears bleed, but it was real and from her heart. No matter how disrespectful and bratty I was with her, I adored her and loved her fiercely.
I curled myself up in Pam’s lap. I thought about sinking my fangs into her for comfort, but I felt like a tick after feeding from Gemma.
“Is she going to want me to change her into a Vampyre? Is that what she meant by not fucking up?” I sniffed.
Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned Series, Book 1) Page 8