The Sharpest Kiss

by Elizabeth Myles

“Well, yeah, but…you think there really is one?”

  “There has to be.”

  Lucy’s heart sank a few inches. “But what if there isn’t?”

  “Think positive, Luce.” Jessica’s hands flew as she plucked books off the nearest shelf and started handing them to her. She started with the Sharpest Kiss series, but there were others in the mix, too. So many others. Soon, Lucy’s shoulders were protesting under the weight of the stack growing in her arms. “And anyway,” Jessica continued, oblivious to Lucy’s increasing discomfort, “even if there is no cure for the bite…maybe things will work out for you and Aaron anyway?”

  Lucy was astounded. “How can you say that, Jess? He’ll be undead! As in, not alive anymore.”

  “Dating vampires works out for a lot of the people in these stories,” Jessica reminded her, adding another book to the pile. On the lurid cover, a girl in a voluminous wedding gown leaned in to kiss a guy with protruding fangs and a limp ponytail. Bloody Wedding Bells, the title screamed out in raised scarlet foil, Five new love stories, each featuring a bite of immortality...and wedding cake.

  Lucy made an incredulous noise. “Reading fun fantasies about vampires is one thing. In real life, we both know these things, if they really exist, are probably pure evil. They suck people’s blood to keep themselves animated, for goodness’ sake!”

  “That doesn’t make them necessarily evil.” Jessica sounded oddly defensive. “Not all of them, anyway.”

  Lucy gaped at her. “Jess, what are you talking about? From the way Aaron described it, this woman used mind control on him and then physically assaulted him. How could she be anything but a monster?”

  Jessica’s lips pursed for a second, like she was trying to decide what to say next, or how exactly to say it. “Look, all I’m saying is, what if—” She didn’t get to finish because the bell above the front door jangled and interrupted her.

  Lucy looked at her friend with dismay. “I thought you said you were closing early for this?”

  “Crap.” A frown creased Jessica’s forehead. “I forgot to lock the door. Hold up a sec, I’ll be right back.”

  “But, Jess—”

  “Just lemme go get rid of whoever that is!” She edged past Lucy, inadvertently bumping her up against a bookshelf. “Sorry, we’re closed,” Lucy heard her say. “I just forgot to lock the…Oh. It’s you…” She trailed off, and Lucy felt her chest tighten in intuitive panic. Dumping her armload of paperbacks into a chair, she hurried back up to the front of the shop. Jessica stood there with her hands on her waist, facing off against a woman carrying a gigantic designer purse under her arm. Lucy stopped short when she got a good look at who it was.

  “Dara?” she said. “Dara Fuentes?”

  The woman swung a light brown gaze toward her. She frowned in puzzlement. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Lucy,” Lucy smiled and patted her chest. “Lucy Booth! We had that advanced English class together in tenth grade. Well, I guess it was just a regular class for you, since you were a Senior, but I was in tenth grade, so it was advanced for…” Dara’s frown deepened, and Lucy shut up, biting her lip. Sheesh, there she went again, sticking her foot in her mouth. But she couldn’t help it. Much like Aaron, this woman made Lucy feel a little…gaga. Not in a sexual way, though. It was just that Dara Leigh Fuentes had always been popular in school. Super popular. She’d been smart and athletic and beautiful. She still was, too. Beautiful, that was. Her long, curly auburn hair looked just as bouncy and shiny as it had back in high school, and her creamy skin was still perfectly smooth and unlined, making her look hardly older than the day she’d graduated. Her russet-colored eyes were wide, edged with long lashes, but just now they looked…worried. And immeasurably sad. Lucy’s heart constricted in sympathy. She wondered what was wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” Dara sighed, turning back to Jessica, “I didn’t realize you were closed. The door was open.”

  “I forgot to lock it,” Jessica repeated. Her voice sounded strained, and her expression had hardened in an uncharacteristic manner. Lucy looked at her in confusion until she remembered—Jessica and Dara had been in the same grade in high school. And Jessica didn’t like Dara. Something about Dara having “stolen” Jessica’s boyfriend with her “shy goody-two-shoes act.” Only Lucy was pretty sure it had never been an act. She wouldn’t have admitted it to Jessica, but she thought maybe her friend was just jealous of Dara. A lot of people had been.

  “Look, can’t you just make an exception for an old friend?” Dara attempted to smile through obvious emotional discomfort. “I’ll only be a few minutes, and I promise I’ll buy something.”

  Jessica’s brows lowered. “Old friend? We hardly knew one another in school.”

  Understanding crept into Dara’s gaze. She took a deep breath. “This is about Paul Cargill, isn’t it?” she sighed.

  Jessica folded her arms. “He and I were supposed to go to the winter formal together. I’d already bought my dress and everything.”

  “But he hadn’t asked you yet, had he?”

  “That’s not the point. We’d been going out for almost a month. Of course he was going to ask me! But then you came along out of nowhere, cozying up to him at some stupid yearbook committee meeting, and suddenly he never called me again. He dated you the whole rest of the school year!”

  “I’m sorry, Jessica.” Dara sounded exhausted. “I didn’t know any of that until later. You and I didn’t exactly run in the same circles, and, well…Paul never mentioned you to me. Look, if it makes you feel any better, he cheated on me about a week after school ended. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

  Jessica’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” Dara tried another smile.

  “But…you’re married,” Jessica’s gaze zeroed in on Dara’s left hand, wrapped around her purse strap, and the hefty diamond glinting from her ring finger. “At the five-year reunion I heard you’d been married since right after graduation.”

  “Not to Paul!” Now Dara let out a genuine chuckle. “I met Jason at work, about six months after Paul and I broke up. We’ve been together ever since. My last name’s Donovan now.”

  “Oh,” Jessica’s mouth formed a small circle. Color started to blossom along her cheeks.

  Dara’s right hand came up. She touched the diamond on her finger, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessica said. “I shouldn’t have…I mean, I didn’t know…”

  Dara waved at her. “It’s fine. I’m not upset because of you. It’s just my husband, Jason…Something happened to him, and...” Her lower lip quivered.

  Lucy felt a sharp stab of pity. Rushing forward, she put her hand on Dara’s arm. “Come inside,” she said. “Sit down for a minute. Tell us what’s wrong.”

  “Lucy,” Jessica shot her a look that asked her what in the world she thought she was doing.

  “I don’t…I don’t want to impose,” Dara said, sniffling.

  Lucy gazed up at her, admiring the way the bookstore lights made her curls shimmer like coils of spun copper, and thinking that even when she was overwrought, she still looked amazing. “You’re not imposing,” she insisted. “Just tell us what’s wrong. Please. We want to help you.”

  Jessica shot another gimlet gaze Lucy’s way. “We do?”

  “Jess!” Lucy hissed, appalled at her friend’s callous behavior.

  At the same time, Dara opened her purse and yanked out a tissue. She blotted her eyes. “It’s fine, really. I’ll come back another time…Maybe.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes at Jessica, and Jessica rolled hers at Lucy. But then Jessica stepped past Dara, flipped the sign in the window from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed,’ and locked the deadbolt. “Lucy, take her in the back,” she instructed tersely. “I’ll make us some tea.”

  ◆◆◆

  Settled in one of the velvet armchairs in the paranormal reading nook, Dara blinked around, seeming to notice the details of her surroundings for the
first time. She examined the feminine furniture and gothic trappings, so different from the dark wood and leather that had decorated the space years before. “Wait, is this not Morris’s Books anymore?” she asked.

  Jessica passed a steaming mug into her hand. “Sure it is. Well, sort of. Rand Morris, the owner, died a few months ago and left the store to me. I run it now.”

  Dara looked impressed. “You do? That’s amazing. I’d love to own a bookstore.”

  Satisfaction gleamed in Jessica’s eyes.

  “What happened to all the rest of the books, though?” Dara wondered. “Mr. Morris used to have all kinds of things in here. Classics and collectibles. Occult stuff. All I see now are romance novels.” She gazed at the gigantic three-dimensional pink letters on the wall, spelling out Happily Ever After in cursive. Underneath them hung giant, blown-up reproductions of romance novel covers, encased in gilt frames and assembled in one long row to create a fleshly panorama of sultry-eyed women and shirtless men.

  “It’s a romance bookstore now,” Jessica explained. “Rand realized a few years ago that romance was his best-selling genre, so he started to convert the whole shop to cater to his most loyal customers. It saved the place from going under, but he got sick before he could complete the renovations. I’ve been finishing where he left off.”

  Dara’s eyebrows went up as she sipped her tea. “Really,” she said. “That’s…interesting.”

  Jessica’s smile faltered. Lucy knew her friend was accustomed to snide reactions anytime the subject of romance novels came up, and she also knew it usually didn’t bother her anymore, but it had to rankle coming from an old rival like Dara.

  Lucy cleared her throat. “So, um, Dara, what do you do?” she asked.

  “I’m a housewife,” she answered quickly. Then, seeing the other girls’ surprise—but hardly seeming surprised by it herself—she added, “Jason’s a programmer. He does well enough to support us, so I stay home and, you know, hold down the fort. Cooking, cleaning, the whole deal. In my spare time, I make different handcrafts and sell them on Etsy.” A smile bloomed on her lips and she focused on Jessica. “I read a lot while Jason’s at work, too. Romance novels, even.”

  Interest rekindled in Jessica’s eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

  A shy blush painted Dara’s cheeks. “I wish I’d known this place had changed so much. I’m kind of a hermit these days, though. I haven’t ventured very far from my apartment over the past few years.”

  She chuckled, playing it off as a joke, but Lucy sensed there was something solemn underlying what Dara had just told them, a serious reason why she didn’t go out much anymore. But she also sensed now wasn’t the time to ask about it. “You said something had happened to Jason-?” she prompted instead.

  Dara looked no less discomfited by the topic change. If anything, she looked more flustered, her cheeks reddening and her gaze growing troubled. She leaned forward and carefully centered her mug on a heart-shaped coaster before replying, “I’m worried you won’t believe me if I tell you. It’s a pretty bizarre story.”

  Lucy glanced at Jessica, who subtly raised her eyebrows. Her mind flashed back to her disturbing conversation with Aaron that afternoon. The terror in his eyes. The wounds on his neck. Swallowing, she said, “Oh, I don’t know, Dara. It’s been a crazy week. You might be surprised what we’re willing to believe.”

  Dara pressed her palms against her knees. She stared into Lucy’s eyes as though trying to determine whether or not she should trust her. Finally, she blurted out, “I think Jason was bitten by a vampire.”

  Chapter Six

  It took a while, because Dara was so upset, but eventually Lucy and Jessica managed to pry the whole story out of her. It seemed Dara’s husband, Jason, had come home late a few nights ago, with his neck doused in blood. His injury had turned out to be two puncture wounds, each about the size of a pencil eraser, just above his shoulder. Dara had never seen anything like it before—other than in horror movies. Her husband had told her a beautiful girl had lured him away from the party he’d been attending and attacked him, forcing him to make out with her and then sinking her fangs into his neck.

  Dara took out her phone and showed the girls a picture she’d taken of the bite marks. Jessica peered at it, feeling her stomach pitch with anxiety and, at the same time, her blood surge with excitement. The wounds looked just like Lucy had described them when she’d told her about Aaron’s. And while it was one thing to have heard Lucy’s incredible story and believe it—which she had—it was even more astounding to be confronted with photographic evidence of a vampire attack. For once, Jessica was speechless.

  “He was acting like he was drunk or drugged,” Dara continued, cradling her phone in both manicured hands. “He didn’t remember where he’d been for the past few hours, or how he’d driven himself home. And he insisted this weird girl he’d met had somehow been able to control him—that she had compelled him to kiss her even though he hadn’t wanted to. He’s been acting weird ever since then, too. The first day, he was sick. Had a fever, was vomiting and stuff. But he refused to let me take him to a doctor or the emergency room. I would have insisted, but then he seemed to turn a corner and get better. He still won’t eat, or leave the apartment, but I managed to get him into the shower, and he seems to be over the illness, at least. He’s been sleeping most of today.” Her features tensed with concern. “This is the first time he’s seemed settled down enough that I felt like I could leave him alone for a little while.”

  Lucy shot a look at Jessica. “That sounds a lot like what Aaron’s been going through. And those wounds, they look exactly the same.”

  Jessica nodded, and Dara glanced from one to the other of them. “Who’s Aaron? What are you talking about?”

  “Aaron’s my boss,” Lucy told her, and then she explained everything that had happened with him over the past few days, the weirdness that had brought Lucy to the bookstore seeking answers.

  Dara’s face blanched. “Lucy,” she said. “Jessica. I came here hoping to find a book with some other explanation in it. Something normal. At the very least, I thought you guys would tell me I was crazy. And now, instead, you’re telling me that…” A laugh trilled from her throat, but it was short and humorless, bordering on hysterical. She murmured, “This can’t really be happening, can it? I mean, vampires?”

  Lucy picked at her jeans anxiously. No one answered Dara for a second, and a tense silence fell over the three of them. Finally, Jessica blurted out, “Well, if it is happening, I think I know someone who might be able to help us.”

  Dara’s head came up, and she eyed Jessica with surprise. “You do?”

  Jessica nodded, and despite how downcast and worried her two companions looked, her own skin tingled with anticipation.

  Lucy narrowed her gaze and tilted her head. “Who could you possibly know that might help us in this situation? Who do you call when a vampire is suddenly attacking all the guys in your neighborhood? And if you say the Ghostbusters, I’m leaving.”

  “No,” Jessica rolled her eyes. “You go to another vampire. A friendly one.” And then she immediately bit her lower lip.

  Lucy and Dara both stared at her. They looked at one another. Then they stared at Jessica some more. Dara settled her phone on the table. “Are you…” she paused, started over again. “Are you trying to tell us that you know a vampire?”

  Jessica nodded, her excitement growing. She’d been dying to tell someone about this for so long and now, finally, she had her chance. “He’s my neighbor,” she burst out. “He lives across the hall from me.”

  “I didn’t think anyone lived in that apartment,” Lucy said. “I’ve never seen anyone going in or coming out of it.”

  “He only comes out at night, duh,” Jessica said. “I see him sometimes when I go out for a walk.”

  Lucy squinted. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t think you would believe me.”

  “I don’t believe you.” />
  “See?” Jessica threw up her hands. “Anyway, I don’t actually know him. We haven’t officially met. But if you guys want, I can try to talk to him. Ask him what he thinks we should do, how we can help Jason and Aaron.”

  Dara’s pretty face scrunched in a frown. “If you don’t actually know this man, Jessica, then how do you know he’s a vampire?”

  “Well,” Jessica sighed, “he’s really beautiful. Tall. Black hair, blue eyes. Otherworldly-looking. And like I said, I only ever see him at night.”

  Lucy and Dara waited a few beats. When Jessica didn’t offer anything else, Lucy said, “That’s it? He’s good looking and he only comes out at night, so obviously he must be a vampire? What if he’s just some hot guy with a night job?”

  Jessica made a face. “Well, no, those aren’t the only two reasons I think he might be undead.” She took a deep breath, let it out in a huff. “A few months ago—gosh, I guess it’s actually been closer to a year now—I saw something weird. Something I wasn’t supposed to.” And then she told them. The story she’d been keeping to herself all these months, about the incident that had instantly turned entire portions of her worldview on their ear.

  It had been late, but Jessica, a perpetual night owl, had been out for a habitual stroll around her apartment complex. She had a routine course that took her past every major landmark on the property, including the twenty-four-hour recreation area across from the swimming pool. The complex tried to sell this space to prospective residents as a “lounge,” but it was really just a dreary-looking TV room, with balding, stain-spotted carpet, a few shabby sofas, and a flat screen mounted on one wall. There was also a dusty bookcase in a corner, next to a vending machine.

  As Jessica had crossed the courtyard that fateful night, she’d heard someone grumbling and what sounded like a fist banging against a metal surface. Peering ahead into the lounge, she’d seen Mr. Hambly, a retired man that lived on the first floor of her building, beating up the snack machine. Shouting an obscenity, Hambly had grabbed the machine and started rocking it from side to side, yelling at it to give him his “(bleeping) potater chips.” Jessica had watched, alarmed, as the machine had pitched back and forth, tilting more precipitously with each wrench of Mr. Hambly’s surprisingly sturdy upper body. She’d begun jogging across the courtyard, about to scream out a warning for Mr. Hambly to, for goodness’ sake, stop doing that, when the machine had reached the point of no return and begun tipping over…