Mortality Bites Box Set [Books 1-6]

by Vance, Ramy

  And I was no longer a creature stalking the night. Though, that said, technically it was night, and I was returning from another one of my scope-it-out strolls.

  Remember what I said about old habits?

  One of the benefits of arriving early was getting to know the place. The other was having my dorm room all to myself.

  Well, until now.

  Reassuring myself that the old days of constantly being under attack were over, I walked to the threshold and looked in.

  When signing up to live in the dorms, I’d had to check a box asking whether I’d be happy having an Other as a roommate. I’d checked it. I mean, ex-vampire girl here. Who am I to judge, right?

  The dorm admissions board had put me on an all-girls floor (although the floors above were full of rowdy boys), and looking inside my room, I could clearly see they had taken me at my word about living with an Other. The person unpacking wasn’t human.

  Not by a long shot.

  She was a bit taller than me, with pointy ears and an impossibly perfect body. Athletes could work out all day and night and still not come close to the frame and muscle tone of this creature.

  Other than that, she looked human enough, although no one would ever mistake her for one. Well, not unless they assumed she was twelve pies short of a baker’s dozen. Humans tended to not stand completely naked in a dorm room with the door wide open. You know, modesty and all that.

  It seemed my new roomie had no qualms about baring it all.

  I groaned as she unpack her peculiar possessions. Of all the Others I could have been paired with, they had to put me in a room with a member of the fae—specifically, a changeling.

  A changeling who was severely messing up the feng shui vibes of our room by stapling Astroturf to our walls. (Astroturf might be the wrong word because this stuff looked like pretty real turf to me—mud, earthworms and all.)

  Fae were obsessed with the outdoors; they drew their strength from the natural world. And changelings were of the warrior variety, which meant their homes needed to be of the earth and soil and loam so they could easily heal themselves after a battle, or some hippie crap like that.

  Not that it mattered anymore. For one thing, their gods—just like everyone else’s—were gone. So no more glorious battles to heal from and no more magical natural medicine. Besides, her roommate—me—wasn’t fae. I was a human girl. Well, an ex-vampire human girl, but a human girl nonetheless. I definitely wouldn’t appreciate finding worms and fungus on the walls.

  In the center of the room, a wheelbarrow held one of those large rolls of Astroturf employed on football pitches. The changeling was using her unnaturally powerful body to unroll the bales and stick them to the walls. Mud was everywhere, and the grass—which, I was tempted to remind her, was meant to be on the ground, horizontal—was falling onto the floor faster than she could put it up. Clearly, this frustrated the process, but she was damn persistent; she just sprayed the walls with water from a misting bottle, trying to get the soil to clump. Drops of dirty water were streaming down the walls and—

  No way … was that my brand new Louis Vuitton striped denim blazer on the floor?

  I darted in, picking it up and shaking it to get the dirt off.

  She turned and gave me the biggest smile, like she hadn’t just destroyed our room with dirt and grass and staples.

  “Oh, hello!” she said. “I was wondering when you would make your entrance.”

  I’m not sure what my face looked like when she said that, but I bet it was a healthy mix of incredulity and rage.

  She didn’t seem to notice, because she stuck out her hand and said with a lilting Irish accent, “I’m Deirdre.”

  I looked at her hand, not taking it. Honestly, I was more likely to bite it than shake it.

  After a long, awkward moment, she retracted it, peering at her hand as if it had broken down. “The Being Human handbook said that humans greet one another with handshakes, but we did not. Did I do it wrong? Was I meant to wait for you to offer your hand because you were the new one to arrive? Or perhaps—”

  Fae—sticklers for protocol. And this one was trying to learn human like an etiquette. “You didn’t do it wrong,” I said. “It’s just that …” I gestured helplessly around me.

  “Oh, yes. I got these rolls of grass from something called a ‘hardware store.’ Strange name, given the softness of the grass.” She picked up a handful and took in a deep breath. “Perhaps you could aid me—I’m having trouble getting it to stick to the walls. You wouldn’t happen to have the appropriate adhesive?”

  When I shook my head, she handed me the staple gun.

  I swear to the GoneGods, I thought about shooting her with it.

  But instead, like a good little ex-vampire, I put it on my desk, counted to three and asked, “And why do you want it to stick to the walls?”

  “Decoration,” she said. Her hands pointed at the walls, and I couldn’t help but notice her long, slender fingers. Staring down at my own hands, I wondered why the GoneGods hadn’t seen fit to make mine so elegant. I’m big enough to admit it … I was jealous.

  “I’m pretty sure we’re not allowed to staple grass to the wall,” I said.

  “We’re not?” she said, genuinely confused.

  “For one thing, we’re not allowed to put holes in the walls—so that’s a no to the staple gun.” I had to hand it to myself: I was remarkably calm, given how angry I was. “For another, we’re meant to keep our rooms clean. Which means no mud and definitely nothing that can grow mold.”

  “But mold isn’t dirty—it’s natural, and the right kinds have many healing properties. Of course, there is poisonous mold. I use them to line my weapons and—”

  “That’s a third thing we’re not allowed. Weapons.”

  “Not even broadswords?”

  She turned away and bent over. I averted my eyes before getting too good a look at her “dark side of the moon,” if you know what I mean. Reaching under her bed, she pulled out a huge broadsword that would have made Braveheart’s claymore seem like a toothpick in comparison. “It’s more ceremonial than for actual battle. That said, I did wield this when facing off against a horde of golems. Funny story—”

  “No broadswords. No grass on the wall.”

  “You mean no decorations at all? Even my poster?” She pointed her broadsword behind me—barely giving me time to duck out of the way—where a poster of Ryan Reynolds hung, stapled to the wall.

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, swooning. She put a hand on her breast—or her heart, I suppose. “He’s so handsome, he is almost elf-like. One day I will be Mrs. Reynolds …”

  I rolled my eyes. Fae. Of their many-faceted quirks, falling in love with an image was probably their strangest. And the love was real. At least, for them. I looked up at the poster in true sympathy. Ryan Reynolds would most likely be filing a restraining order against this changeling at some point in the future.

  Then I looked at her perfect naked body and thought, Then again, maybe not.

  Either way, that wasn’t my problem right now. My problem was that this changeling was tracking dirt everywhere. “I’m sorry to keep interrupting you,” I said, “but …” I pointed at the floor around me.

  She gave me a confused look.

  “You’re going to have to clean all this up?” I clarified.

  “Really?” she said, her voice full of despair.

  “I don’t mind, but humans have rules and—”

  “I broke them. First day here and I’m already failing.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Being mortal is hard,” she said, plopping herself onto her bed and sending up a fresh shower of loose soil.

  I felt for her. Really, I did, despite the ruined jacket still in my hand. I was finding mortality hard, too, and I was human … well, I was born human, at least. But that was over three hundred years ago. I’ve only been re-human-ated for four years and I was finding it tough to get my mojo back.

  Mojo?
That’s a ‘70s term, almost fifty years ago. I really must update my vernacular.

  Still, my years as a Highland girl did give me a lot more experience at being human than she had. I sat next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, still acutely aware of her nudity. Damn, even her skin felt like it was manufactured in a lab. “Mortality does bite, Deirdre—but I’m here to help. If you have any mortality questions, just ask me. I’ll steer you right.”

  “You will?”

  “Cross my heart.” I dropped my jacket back to the floor and made an X on my heart. She looked at me curiously. Before she could ask, I said, “It’s a human expression. Means ‘I promise.’ A slightly old expression. Probably had its heyday thirty years ago, but—”

  The changeling wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so tight I struggled to breathe. Damn, she was strong, too. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  I’d never been hugged by a naked fae before. It was nicer than I’d expected.

  After a long second, she pulled away and put her hand over her heart—a common fae salute. “Thank you, human girl. In return for your generous offer, I give you my sword arm. This is my pledge to you. This is my …” She loosened her fist and made an X over her heart. “This is my heart-cross to you.”

  Oh, yay … I’d only been here for a week and I already got a warrior fae as a protector.

  Maybe college wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  I helped my changeling roommate clean up and take everything outside, which involved convincing her first to put on some clothes and then not to sniff, pick at or eat the grass as we carried it out. She really struggled with this last part; twice I caught her stuffing a handful of soil and grass into her pockets. It was slow work, but eventually we managed to get it all out the door.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to accomplish this before some of the other girls on the floor started making fun of us. They mocked us from a safe distance (they, too, were acutely aware of Deirdre’s powerful build) with comments like “Look at her ears” or “Eat dirt much?” Not particularly witty, but these humans were wary of picking a fight with Deirdre and, if they were totally honest with themselves, they were probably jealous of how beautiful she was.

  The girls stood in little clusters and watched us. Safety in numbers, I guess—Schoolgirl Bullying 101.

  Only one of the girls broke away from a cluster of her peers to help out by giving Deirdre a plot of soil that had fallen out of the wheelbarrow. She was a mousy little thing with amber hair and thick black glasses. She scurried away the second Deirdre said, “Thank you.” Deirdre looked hurt.

  “They’ll get used to you,” I said. “And as soon as some more Others show up, you won’t be the only freak show on display here.”

  “Freak?” she asked. “What is this ‘freak’ you speak of?”

  “You know—stranger, non-human, different. Freak.”

  “I see,” she said, and lifted the handles of her wheelbarrow again. “We are freaks.”

  “ ‘We’? ” I said, slightly offended.

  “Me because I’m an Other. You because you help Others.”

  I sighed. “That’s me, human freak at your service.”

  After helping Deirdre get the Astroturf out of our room, we swept up in silence. She was pretty upset, having lost all her earth and grass, but she seemed to accept that this new GoneGod World had different rules. That said, I was pretty sure I’d come home one day to her having stuffed her mattress with freshly dug dirt, but at least I got most of it out of the room for now. Small victories.

  Tomorrow, I’d figure out a way to get her to give up her broadsword. After that, we’d move on to the smaller stuff, like wearing clothes and how most of nature belonged outside.

  Baby steps, Kat. Baby steps.

  It was late—almost midnight—and my first class started early. Best get some sleep so I could be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my first day of classes.

  Vampires, Others, Professors and Football Players

  FIRST CLASS BLUES—

  When I was dead, all I wanted was to be alive. Now that I was human again, all I wanted to do was die. Or shrivel up and disappear. I’d never been so embarrassed in my human or vampiric life.

  It all started when I walked into Professor Hayes’s class and some smart aleck decided to open the drapes without any warning. Light streamed through the window and I, of course, freaked out, jumping back to avoid the sun’s rays and right into Justin Truly’s arms.

  I may have only been scoping out the campus for a week, but you couldn’t be at this college and not have heard about Justin.

  Sophomore, McConnell Hall president, straight-A student and all-around hunk—and here I was in his arms, freaking out (did I mention I was freaking out?). And why? Because I was afraid of a little bit of natural light. Oh, the horror. The HORROR!

  I knew I was a three-hundred-year-old vampire and that I should have been way cooler than I was, but I was also a nineteen-year-old girl with almost zero experience with human boys. The hormonal, boy-obsessed teenager that I never got to be was coming out with a vengeance.

  “Are you OK?” Justin asked.

  “Yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Old habits?” He lifted a curious eyebrow in my direction, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “Yeah …” I said, but to be honest, his question hadn’t penetrated my brain. He was cute before, but that eyebrow lift … that eyebrow lift just upgraded him from cute to irresistible.

  But then I remembered where I was. More important, I remembered who I was. A normal human girl and not some three-hundred-year-old vampire. Well, ex-vampire. “Ahh, I mean … I was daydreaming and … the sudden appearance of the light startled me and … well, I’m a jumper.”

  Justin continued his oh-so-incredibly-cute curious-eyebrow trick. “I see. First-day jitters, huh?” He ran a hand through his thick, lush black locks and I just about died—again.

  Girl, I thought to myself. Get a grip. Seriously … you’ve eaten guys cuter than him.

  “I’m working on it. But like I said—”

  “Old habits. Yeah, I got it.” He gave me a wry smile and extended his hand. “I’m Justin.”

  “I know,” I said, staring down at his perfectly formed fingers, as if Jesus Christ Himself were offering me a drink from the Holy Grail.

  “And you are …?”

  I looked up again. “Me?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, you.”

  I shook his hand. “Ahh, Kat. Katrina. Kat.”

  “Kat. I see you are aptly named.”

  I gave him a curious look of my own, sans the eyebrow trick. Harder than it looked.

  “You know, old habits and all. You always land on your feet.”

  “Feet?” I asked. “Oh, I get it. Because I’m a jumper. And a cat. Kat.”

  “Bingo,” he said, shooting his pointy finger my way.

  What did that mean? Did he just shoot me dead? Figuratively speaking, of course. Or was the finger a good thing? Like he was acknowledging me in some kind of affirmative, kudos kind of way?

  Being human is so hard.

  Before I could think of anything to say back, I was saved by a stern, loud voice that cried out, “Will everyone take your seats? Now, please.”

  The class was starting. Phew.

  Justin gave me an after you gesture and I took the nearest seat, which was way up in the auditorium, hoping he would sit next to me. But the sophomore football player didn’t, opting instead to walk down the steps to the front row.

  A dark-skinned boy a few rows in front of me gave me a thumbs-up and said in a deep foreign accent I recognized to be from West Africa (where was that? Ghana?), “Smooth, girl. Very smooth.”

  Yeah, smooth like sandpaper. So much for having a great first day.

  Professor Hayes slammed two folders down on the table. “Why did the gods leave?”

  Of all the questions I expected to be asked on my first day during my first class, this wasn�
��t one of them. Especially because no one knew why the gods had left. Their GrandExodus happened four years ago, and scholars, philosophers, theologians and scientists alike debated what had prompted them to go. The truth was, no one knew why they left and no one would ever know.

  “We’re not gods, and therefore god logic is not something we’re capable of,” I muttered to myself. Sadly, far more audibly than I’d meant to.

  There was a chuckle in the room.

  Professor Hayes pointed in my direction and said, “Yes, a very good answer, but incomplete.”

  Crap, I was speaking to myself out loud again. It was something I did a lot. I don’t mean to, but I guess after years of being a lone hunter and creature of the night, you get used to talking to yourself. And as for being embarrassed about it, that was new, too. Back in those days, I’d simply rip out the throats of anyone who dared laugh at me.

  Talking out loud and no jumping at light … two old habits I really needed get under control. Why can’t I be trying to quit smoking? At least there’s a patch for that, I thought (in my head, thankfully).

  Professor Hayes smiled at me, his pudgy chipmunk cheeks squishing his eyes, making him look like the Santa Claus version of Clint Eastwood.

  I stared back, not daring to say—or think—anything.

  “You, in the back row,” Professor Hayes said. “What is your name?”

  “Ahh … me?” I started, but before I could get my name out, a voice in the front row said, “Katrina. Kat for short. Careful, Professor Hayes—she’s a jumper.”

  Justin Truly.

  The auditorium chattered with muffled giggles.

  Professor Hayes shot Justin a look before returning his gaze on me. “Katrina …?” He dragged out my name like I was supposed to complete it or something.

  Oh, yeah—complete it. “Darling,” I said. “Katrina Darling.”

  “Miss Darling,” the professor said. “Your answer is absolutely right. We don’t know. All we do know is that the gods did exist—once—and that three days from now will mark the four-year anniversary of their departure. We also know they did not take it upon themselves to explain their behavior, instead leaving with a simple message of …?”