Nina waved Marty away and sat back up. Grabbing the hand she’d just dismissed, she blew on it as hard as she could. Nada in the way of air. “No, Marty, I mean I can’t breathe. Like at all.”
Marty’s and Wanda’s mouths fell open in synchronized drops, making perfect O’s of astonishment.
“Hoo boy,” Wanda muttered, sending Marty a wide-eyed look of holy shit.
“Okay, so let’s look at the bright side of this, Nina.” Marty cupped her chin and clearly forced a smile of encouragement.
Nina gave her a skeptical look. “And that would be?”
“Think of all the money you’ll save on mouthwash. You’ll never have bad breath, of course.” She flashed her teeth in another grin.
“Get the frig off me, Marty! I’m not breathing, you ‘look at the bright side’ bullshit artist! I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with you. I should be in the flippin’ morgue while you guys sob like babies and plan my funeral attire—which better have nothing to do with the color yellow, by the way. But here I am. Walking, talking, and so hungry I feel like I could eat a herd of buffalo, except the idea of food makes me want to goddamned hurl. So what the hell do I do now?”
Wanda’s mouth thinned, her hands worrying the edge of her skirt. “I think we find the guy with the funny name from yesterday. If what those websites say is right anyway. He’s the only one who would know who can help us, right? He holds the key to our troubles.”
“It isn’t our trouble, Wanda. It’s mine, and I’ll deal with it.” Yeah…
Marty gave her a playful shove, but her expression was disapproving. “Stop already, would you? Quit with the ‘I don’t need anybody’ crap. You’ve done it to death. If you didn’t need us, you wouldn’t be the first person to make the round of calls to set up karaoke night once a month. You’re not as tough as you’d like us to believe, and don’t think for a minute we don’t know that. Stop bulldozing through everything and let us help. You’re stuck with us, like it or not, okay? So knock it the hell off, and let’s formulate a plan, got that?”
Her heart would warm to Marty’s words because—whether she liked to admit it or not, these women who’d forced their way into her life via nail polish and mascara—had grown on her—but apparently, she no longer had one.
Nice. Very nice.
Nina clutched her thin shirt and nodded, letting the curtain of her hair fall over her face to hide her embarrassment. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you involved in something that might potentially end up hurting either of you. These vampire people aren’t exactly the most upstanding dudes, if what you read from the Internet is true.”
Wanda gave them a coy smile and giggled. Twisting a strand of her hair, she winked at them while bouncing her crossed leg. “Oh, I dunno, Nina. I’ve been reading some romance novels lately. Paranormal ones and I gotta tell you, some of the men in these books are downright dreamy. Alpha. They’re called alpha males, and I wouldn’t mind having one—even if he does drink blood and couldn’t do brunch at Hogan’s on Sundays because he’d burn to a crisp.”
The thought of Hogan’s early bird Sunday special—corned beef hash and eggs Benedict for a buck ninety-nine—made Nina’s stomach roll with fierce indignation. She covered her mouth with a hand and gagged.
Well, it was more like hacked, because nothing was coming out of her yap but dead space.
Looking her friends square in the eye, Nina said, “Okay, so we find this dude. Good. I’m all in, but to do that I have to get past the Belinda-nator.”
“Who?” Marty looked down at her, tilting her head.
“Belinda’s Dr. Berkenstein’s receptionist, and she guards patient files like they’re part of a CSI investigation instead of just a bunch of pictures of teeth. She’s a fucking terrorist when it comes to those damned things. You’d think she was guarding Fort Knox. She’s the one who has all the patient files.”
Marty looked at her thick, gold watch. “Well, it’s almost six now. When does the good doctor arrive in the mornings?”
“What the hell day is it, anyway?” Nina pinched her temples, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. Wait, did she still have one of those? Wasn’t that a vital organ, too? Oh, shit on a shingle. Terror rose in a wave, and she gritted her teeth—her big teeth—to fight back a scream.
“It’s Wednesday.” Wanda gave her a hesitant smile, oozing sympathy.
Crap, she’d missed an entire day of work and had never called in vampire, er, sick. Those bennies and paid vacations were going to be yanked out from under her like a rug if she didn’t figure this out. “Nine sharp. He’ll be in at nine sharp. If we get there about eight-thirty Belinda will definitely be there. She’s kind of anal that way.”
“Then it’s a date,” Marty confirmed with another one of her falsely cheerful grins. “Now go shower or whatever vampires do to freshen up, and we’ll be on our way.”
“And don’t forget to moisturize,” Wanda chirped.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Nina said with sarcasm. “While I’m moisturizing, why don’t you two angels fire up the Bat Mobile?”
Marty screwed her face up. “Oh, Nina. The Angels didn’t have a Bat Mobile—”
“Shut up, Maaarty,” Nina singsonged over her shoulder, keeping her tone light to hide her terror.
Shutting the door to her bathroom firmly behind her, she caught sight of her fangs in the mirror again. It was almost the only thing she could see in her distorted reflection.
Christ, she’d better break out the big toothbrush for these bad boys.
CHAPTER
2
“How about some Barry, Nina? He always makes everything better, doesn’t he? Maybe a little ‘Weekend in New England’—or ‘Could It Be the Magic?’ Wait, ‘Mandy.’ You love ‘Mandy.’” Wanda’s suggestion made Nina groan.
When Marty and Wanda had heard about her addiction to Barry Manilow and his girlie love songs, they’d decided Nina did have at least one feeling, and since then, they’d never let her hear the end of it. Whenever she was agitated, Wanda always broke out the Barry CD’s. Music to soothe the savage Nina was what she called it.
She groaned again. “No Barry.”
Wanda sniffed. “Fine. Just be cranky then.”
“Jesus, it’s hot in here. Isn’t it hot, Wanda?” Nina nudged her from the passenger seat, messing with the car’s controls to try and find the air conditioner. The sun, though weak for this time of year, beat at her skin through the windshield like they were driving through the bowels of bloody Hell. Though Nina was covered head to toe in thick gloves, a scarf, and hat, the sun left her feeling like her skin had been through a hand grater.
Wanda ran a hand over Nina’s exposed forehead. “Do you have enough sunscreen? I have more in my purse if you need it.”
She had so much sunscreen on, she felt like fried chicken in a vat of oil. They’d slathered her up but good, because the Internet said she was going to be sensitive, as Wanda had called it, to the sun. She sported a mighty fine stripe of zinc oxide across the bridge of her nose, too. Just in case, Marty had said. “I’m fine. Let’s just get there before Dr. Berkenstein comes in.”
“I’m freezing.” Marty leaned forward and poked Nina in the shoulder. “Turn that A/C off, Elvira. Jesus, it’s twenty degrees out.”
She immediately let go of the A/C dial and sat back, folding her fidgety hands in her lap. Her head throbbed, the glare from the sun making her eyeballs feel like steaks on a grill. “Gimme those fancy sunglasses, Marty. My frickin’ eyes are killing me.” Nina jammed her hand back at Marty without turning around and wiggled her fingers, waiting.
“I will not. If I don’t wear sunglasses I’ll develop wrinkles from squinting, and it’s very bright out today.”
No shit, it was bright. Each flicker of sunlight felt like an ice pick to the space between her eyes.
Her head began a steady cadence with a beat reminiscent of the noisiest of nightclubs. All bass, no melody. Nina’s voice was
tight, her words measured. “Give me the damn sunglasses, Marty, or I’ll poke your eyes out, and wrinkles will be the least of your problems.” Another sharp stab of pain dug right between her eyes, making her clench her jaw.
“Oh, Nina, just stop. You can’t take me anymore, and you know it. Remember? Me werewolf—you? Not so much.” If Nina turned around, she knew she’d find Marty with a smug smile of triumph on her face, but it hurt too much to move her head. Tightening the scarf she wore around the lower half of her face to hide her teeth, Nina then clenched her fists to keep from ramming one down Marty’s throat.
Wanda’s exasperated sigh filled the car. “Going anywhere with the two of you is like taking two children on a long, long, loooong car trip cross country. Knock it off, the both of you. And Marty? I wouldn’t be so sure about being able to kick Nina’s ass anymore. You held the title for a while, but Nina just might be able to snatch it back and declare a comeback win. Again I say, if the Internet is right, she’s got superhuman strength on her side now that she’s—well, now that she’s—um, possibly immortal. Not to mention daylight could potentially kill her. Now before this turns into Godzilla vs. Kong, give Nina your sunglasses, please. The sun is like poison to her.” Wanda kept one hand on the steering wheel, while sticking the other back at Marty.
Marty plunked them in her hand with a puff of defeat. “Fine, but you’d better give them back.”
“Whoa, daylight can kill me?” Hold the fuck on. Nobody’d said a thing about daylight and death. How in theee hell did you die if you were immortal? Didn’t that take like a stake through the heart? The heart she didn’t have? What an assload of contradictions.
Wanda’s face grew worried again. That place at her temple, just beneath a lock of hair, pulsed. “Well, we didn’t want to freak you out with too many details, but yes. I’m afraid daylight isn’t good for you anymore. I guess our girls’ trip to somewhere tropical is out. But I hear Alaska’s kinda cool when it’s dark twenty-four-seven and besides, I like icebergs.”
She handed the trendy glasses to Nina, who put them on, feeling relieved. It helped lessen the sting, but by no means was it making her comfortable. “That’s just freakin’ lovely, and here I am in broad daylight with you two riding shotgun just waiting for me to melt.”
“Don’t be silly, Nina. You won’t melt. You’ll fr—”
“Marty!” Wanda stopped Marty with an urgent cry before she could say another word. “Enough, okay? How about we just get to Dr. Berkenstein’s office in one piece, and no one is melting or anything else for that matter. Now both of you shut your faces and let me drive. I haven’t slept all night, and unlike you two super creatures, I need my sleep!”
Silence, contrite and embarrassed, filled the car. Nina scrunched farther down in the seat, as if doing that was going to actually keep her from frying like so much bacon. That’s what Marty was going to say before Wanda had shut her up. She’d fry from exposure to the sunlight.
Oh, shit. This was bad.
Wanda finally made a left into Dr. Berkenstein’s parking lot and pulled into a slot. The large brick building loomed over the car, seeming far more intimidating than it ever had when she’d come for an interview just two weeks ago. Though thankfully, the parking lot was fairly empty. The only car in it was Belinda’s. She showed up to work early just to make everyone else look bad, according to Joanne, another hygienist in the office.
Ass licker.
She’d rubbed Nina wrong from the get-go, with her Hitler-like organizational skills and her anal filing rules. Nina thought Belinda might incur apoplexy when she’d mistakenly placed a patient’s file in the wrong bin on her first day. She’d given Nina “the look.” The one that said she was an idiot who didn’t know her ass from her elbow.
“Okay, so now what? Do you want us to cause a diversion so you can get past the Belinda-nator?” Wanda’s question was filled with eager anticipation, her blue eyes flashing with the hope of intrigue, danger, excitement.
Nina lifted Marty’s glasses momentarily and glared at her. “No, Farrah. I don’t need the Angels’ help today. This is on me. I’m going to have to steal Mr. Unpronounceable Name’s file, and believe me when I tell you the Belinda-nator’s going to put up a fight if she finds out what I’m up to. Patient confidentiality and all that crap. You two just sit here and keep the car running. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
Nina hopped out of the car before her friends could protest, heading for the blue door. Bells chimed when she entered, announcing her arrival. She tugged the scarf farther up, keeping it around her mouth. She was grateful it was cold today. It gave her a reason to hide her teeth—which were becoming an increasingly bigger drag than they had been when she’d first discovered them.
Belinda’s head popped up from behind the reception desk like toast from a toaster. Her face twisted into a narrowed gaze filled with condescension. Her neat bleached-blonde updo, molded to her head, thanks to a gallon of sculpting gel, didn’t budge, as her long earrings dangled in the fluorescent light.
Nina eyed her guardedly, wondering if anyone had told her frosted blue eye shadow was soooo not this era. Marty would shit color wheels of joy if she knew some of the crap she’d taught her during her stint at Bobbie-Sue had actually stuck with her.
Belinda’s tongue clucked with disapproval, dragging Nina back to the sticky task at hand. “Well, look who’s decided to come back from her unannounced vacation. Must be nice to just come and go as you please at a job you’ve had for oh, two days without even calling in sick. And what’s that on your nose? You look ridiculous.” Sarcasm dripped from her words, like melting butter on a hot summer’s day. Belinda’s hand went to the necklace she wore, and she began to twist it, wrapping the chain around her index finger.
Nina’s eyes, still behind Marty’s glasses, rolled to the back of her head. She cringed, her feet suddenly like cement blocks.
She squinted from the razor sharp jabs of pain in her head.
What in the hell was going on? Rubbing her eyes with her gloved fingers, Nina finally was able to focus on Belinda’s necklace and identify the problem with it.
A crucifix.
Jesus Christ in a miniskirt. Belinda’s crucifix was searing her eyes as though she’d branded them with the chain personally.
What a Dracula cliché.
If she didn’t do something soon, her eyeballs were going to combust, but she couldn’t will her body to move. It was like some invisible force rooted her in place. Panic washed over her, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the cross Belinda wore. It gleamed in the florescent lighting, taunting her, dangling with menace.
“Well, hurry up and get your butt in gear, Nina. We have a full day today, and I daresay you have some sucking up to do if you don’t want to find yourself fired when the doctor arrives.” Smoothing a hand over her already perfect hair, Belinda stared at Nina and tapped on the protective glass encasing her receptionist’s throne.
Was it not enough the woman wore a cross around her neck, but did she have to have them dangling from her charm bracelet, too? Nina remained riveted, stuck to the floor like someone had superglued her sneaker-clad feet to it.
Belinda clapped her hands, leaving a sharp snap in their wake. “Um, hello, slacker? Work. You have work to do.”
When Nina finally found her voice, it sounded three octaves lower and a little snarly to her ears. Had she really used the word slacker? Slack this, you oral Nazi. “Did you just call me a slacker?”
Belinda straightened and lifted one eyebrow—an eyebrow that to Nina’s assessment could use some good old-fashioned plucking. It didn’t match her bleached blonde hair anyway. “I did. You are. Hang up your coat, and move your ass.”
Whatever had held her in place, abruptly unglued her. She might have this vampire thing going on, but the old Nina, the one who at one time didn’t blink an eye at a crucifix, reared her ugly head. She took two steps closer to Belinda, rolling her shoulders in her thick coat to keep her momentum. “O
h. Got ya. I just wanted to be sure I heard you right, you ballbuster. Funny, I don’t remember Dr. Berkenstein leaving you in charge. So why don’t you go do receptionist-like shit, and I’ll do the stuff I got a degree for, ’K?” Nina about-faced and headed for the door leading to the offices in back, stopping at Belinda’s desk.
Belinda plunked down on her swivel chair and whirled to face Nina. Her large breasts jiggled at the opening of her dark purple silk blouse, oozing like a freshly popped can of dinner rolls. Her face screwed up into a ball of too much foundation and blusher. Clearly someone didn’t like to be told what was what. “You cannot talk to me like that.”
Nina tightened the scarf around her mouth then braced her hands on the Formica overhang of the counter, sticking her face in Belinda’s, fighting the nausea and waves of fire licking at her skin. Nearly nose to nose with Belinda, Nina had to swallow hard. Belinda’s breath just might rival the smell of a three-day-old dead body left to decay in the desert.
Lawd, who’d had way too much garlic? Nina let her nostrils flare for effect, making a face at Belinda and wrinkling her nose. “Well, I just did.” Changing gears, she asked because repulsion compelled her to do so, “Hey, tell me something?”
Belinda sucked in her cheeks. “What?”
“You like Giuseppe’s down on Lancaster?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Didja have lunch there yesterday?”
Her face changed from annoyed to leery in seconds. “Were you spying on me, Nina?”
“Uh, no. But here’s a little advice. The next time you opt for a meatball parm sub with extra garlic at Giuseppe’s, do us all the biggest of favors and use the chronic halitosis mouthwash Dr. Berkenstein gives his special patients. You’re going to scare away the clientele.”
Belinda’s hand flew to her mouth in obvious mortification before she jumped up and ran down the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
Nina’s smile was sly with victory, but only for a moment. The ache in her gut had begun to gnaw its way up to her throat, sitting there like a lump. Cold chills broke out along her spine, yet not a bead of sweat followed. And she’d been able to tell Belinda had had lunch at Giuseppe’s.
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