The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire (26 page)

“What are you going to do now?” I asked, as Marty pulled a syringe out of his pocket and tapped the port on my IV bag.

“You don't deserve to live, not after what you did to me.” He gave me an evil smile. “Wasn't that one of your criticisms on my progress reports? ‘Marty doesn't finish his work'?”

I nodded. “I'm so sorry, Marty. I didn't mean it.” The asshole actually laughed at me as I weakly “fumbled” for his hand. Meanwhile he meddled with the IV bag that wasn't actually connected to my hand.

“Marty,” I whispered. “I put something else on your progress report.”

He paused before injecting what I assumed was more nightshade into my IV bag. “What's that?”

“I wrote, ‘Marty misjudges situations and attempts to step in where he doesn't belong.' ” I grabbed his wrist and twisted it so hard that I heard something snap. “You've really stepped in it this time, Marty.”

I sprang out of bed, standing over him while he howled and dropped to the floor. He clutched his hand to his chest, whimpering like a wounded dog. I slid into my unicorn slippers and robe, completely calm, as if I woke up every morning to a man cowering on my hospital-room floor.

“Gladiola, what are you doing?” he yelled, scrambling across the floor like an injured crab.

“I'm going to tell you one last time,” I growled, crouching over him and baring my fangs. “The name. Is. Gigi.”

Marty shrieked, practically crawling under my bed to get away from me.

I grinned nastily, and he recoiled from me. “So you're a nice guy, right? A nice guy who deserves my time and attention. I'm obligated to be in a relationship with you because you showed me some basic kindness. A cup of coffee means I'm bound to you for life?”

I lined up Marty's head with my leg as if I was prepping for a field goal and kicked for distance. My foot connected with his nose with a satisfying crunch, and Marty flopped onto his back. My only regret was the little spatter of blood on my unicorn slippers.

“Well, guess what, douchebag?” I spat, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him up so we were at eye level.

“V-v-vampire,” he spluttered around the blood pouring from his nose.

“That's right. You poisoned me. You killed me. You put me through a needless and painful death. So you're going to get a lot of my attention from now on. Meaning that every few years, when the vampires let you out of a dark hole at the bottom of nowhere to decide if they should set you free or shove you back into that hole to let time, old age, and despair finish you off, I'm going to be there. And every time, I'm going to root for shoving you back into the pit. Because that's what you deserve.”

I dropped him back to the floor. Sam and Dick walked into the room just in time to see his head smack against the tile.

“Gigi,” Dick chastised me. “We said no bloodshed.”

“He slipped,” I said, pushing past them to grab my purse from the patient closet. I was done with Marty. He was the Council's problem now.

“Arrest her,” Marty whined through lips that were swollen and bloody. “She assaulted me. I wanna press charges.”

“Other people might question it, but I'd say you had it coming,” Dick said. “And I think you should be more concerned with the charges the Council will be leveling against you.”

“You're lucky she didn't follow through on the Pez plan, dumbass. Now, get up,” Sam said, pulling Marty to his feet.

Marty's legs instantly buckled under him, and he smacked his head against the floor again.

“That one's on you!” I called over my shoulder, leaving the room.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam grumbled, and I could hear him say, “Martin McCullough, I am taking you into the custody of the Half-Moon Hollow Regional Branch of the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead. You have the right to refuse questioning. You have the right to contact the human authorities when we make means of communication available to you. These are your only rights, and the Council can waive them at any time, because we're vampires, and the federal government offers us very little supervision. Also, just for your information, I think you're a douchebag.”

I stepped into the open elevator at the end of the hall, snickering at Sam's little improvisation. Vampire hearing had its advantages.

16

The key to maintaining any relationship, whether it's business or personal, is flexibility. You have to know how to adapt and find the bright side, no matter what life throws at you.

—The Office After Dark: A Guide to Maintaining a Safe, Productive Vampire Workplace

T
o say that vampire life required an adjustment was an insult to the word “understatement.”

Without the distraction of sweet, sweet revenge, I had to adjust to living with every sense turned up to eleven. All of the emotions I'd held in check under the shock of waking up a vampire came rushing out as panic and agoraphobia. Human pulses sounded like hammers pounding in my ears. Picking up smells coming from trash cans or cheap scented candles felt like being punched in the face. I retreated to the house for almost two weeks, because I didn't trust myself out in the world just yet.

Iris assured me that this was perfectly normal, that when she'd first been turned, she hid out in her tub with a bottle of dessert blood and a Harlequin novel for the first few days. And while her presence was a comfort, it was Nik who got me through the rough patches. He was with me every minute of every night, talking to me, telling me stories, poking fun at me when I needed to laugh at myself. And when the bloodthirst got really bad or I realized how much I was going to miss sushi, he distracted me with other tactics that required seclusion—and sometimes props.

I had to fill the hours (and hours and hours) somehow.

Since I was poisoned in the office, I had technically been injured “on the job” and was therefore entitled to a heck of a workers' compensation package. (All vampire fine print is scary fine print.) The Council was very graciously hanging on to my job until I could tolerate being close enough to humans to come back to the office. Until then, I was working from home on a very secure Council-issued laptop and building up my tolerance to human smells through careful feeding and spending time with Nola and Zeb while under watchful vampire supervision.

Aaron and Jordan tried to visit, stopping by with a big “get well” basket of bottled blood and all of the
Walking Dead
seasons on DVD, which was touching and yet slightly insensitive. But I was too nervous to let them past the front porch. Nola and Zeb knew the risks of vampire social training. My coworkers did not. So we settled for Skype chatting, keeping me updated on the (successful!) testing phase and the office scuttle­butt. My being turned was the office gossip of the year, being chewed over either as evidence of the ridiculous dangers of including humans in the vampire work environment or as the most romantic story this side of young adult novels.

Immediately after the hospital sting, Jordan and Aaron saw a handcuffed Marty being dragged through the office to the detention centers in the lower levels. And he had not been seen since. Margaret came to our office to tell Aaron and Jordan that Marty would not be returning to work, but she blatantly ignored all other attempted questions.

Iris's issues with Nik were slowly but surely easing. She still had a problem with the age difference and the fact that Nik had drawn me into the deep, dark world of vampires. But she shut up pretty quickly when I pointed out that Cal had done the same for her, and I didn't remember her asking my opinion about it.

The bright side was that we now had all the time in the world to spend together. We didn't have to worry about me getting hurt or sick or old. I would be able to annoy Iris until the end of time. It was every little sister's dream come true. And with vampire strength, it was a lot easier to kick Cal and Nik out of the house so we could watch movies and drink dessert blood. They protested mightily, but I suspected they enjoyed their boys' nights as much as we did. They were just too smart to tip their hands. Wily, wily vampires.

One particular night in my second week postvampire, we were enjoying Tommy Night (Tom Hiddleston movies plus shirtless Tom Hardy movies plus bloody Tom Collinses). Since I would technically never reach twenty-one anyway, Iris had waived her usual “no corrupting the minors” policy. Iris kept fiddling with her phone, her text chime sounding repeatedly.

“Hey, you're neglecting Tom Hardy's naked abs.” I threw a couch cushion at her as she checked her text messages. “I'm pretty sure that's a felony in some states. No business tonight, Iris. You promised.”

Iris shook her head. “It's not Beeline. It's Jane. She says she and Dick need to meet with us this evening. Something about official Council business.”

“What would Dick and Jane have to do with official Council business?”

“Yeah, the Council is not in the habit of explaining their motives to me.” Iris shrugged, reaching for her glass. “Welcome to the world of vampire politics: nothing makes sense. They should be here in a few minutes.”

“We should probably be sober for this,” I told her.

We stared at each other for a long, silent moment, and then chugged the rest of our drinks. Nik and Cal arrived home, still arguing over whether Gabriel or Zeb would have won the hand of poker they'd been forced to abandon after Jane's text. Nik insisted Zeb would have folded under Gabriel's threatening glare, but Cal claimed that Zeb was so accustomed to the threat of vampire blustering that he would have blithely bluffed on.

“You don't seem to be very upset about your evening being disrupted,” Iris said.

“We were losing,” Nik said. “I am not used to losing card games to humans. It is unsettling.”

“I told you not to underestimate Zeb,” Cal said, flopping onto the couch next to my sister. “He survived being Jane's friend during her clumsy human phase. Also, he's married to a beautiful, vicious werewolf and has managed to negotiate her pack's violent in-law dynamics without significant injury. I've said for years that his goofy puppy-dog charm is a carefully constructed ruse meant to put us at ease so he can work us like a puppet master.”

“I miss Jolene, and the twins.” I sighed.

“Whenever you're ready, Zeb and Jolene are ready to bring the kids to see you,” Iris said. “You're already doing so well, Geeg. I don't think you're going to have any trouble controlling yourself.”

The knock at our door made me spring to my feet.

Dick and Jane were standing on our front porch looking completely miserable, like unwilling door-to-door evangelists. Jane was wearing a pantsuit, though it was certainly more stylish than my own. And poor Dick was in a white dress shirt and plain blue tie, absolutely no writing or funny pictures or anything. He pulled at his collar as if it was out to strangle him.

“Why are you guys just standing out there?” I asked. “Are you going to try to recruit us to a really boring cult?”

“We're here on official Council business,” Jane said, sighing.

“You keep saying that, and it doesn't make any sense,” Iris said.

“I do not think this word means what you think it means,” I said with a snort. When no one laughed, I huffed. “You people should all be ashamed of yourselves. We are going to watch
The Princess
Bride
again this weekend.”

“Can we come in, please?” Dick asked, still tugging at his collar. “I'd hate for anyone to see me dressed like this.”

“Sure, sorry,” Iris said, and ushered them in. “What's going on?”

Jane peeled off her suit jacket and flopped onto our couch in her slacks and camisole. “God, I hate business casual,” she said. “The pantsuit is a lie.”

I nodded. “Right?”

Dick immediately stripped out of his button-up and tie, revealing a T-shirt that read “Female Body Inspector.”

“You are all class, my friend,” Iris said.

“Yeah, he went old-school offensive.” Jane sighed. “He needed to know he was wearing something inappropriate to survive our ‘induction.' ”

“Induction?” I growled. “Would you please stop being vague and get to the point?”

Dick tossed his tie into our fireplace. “The Council is ‘displeased' with Ophelia. And by that, I mean she's lucky she's not getting the Trial.”

“Wow,” I murmured, dropping down to the couch as my legs folded under me. I felt a little bit sorry for Ophelia. I mean, sure, she tried to have me killed, but she did something desperate and stupid for love, which I sort of understood. I would find a way to punch her in the throat, though. It might take me a really long time and some emergency personnel, but I would find a way.

“For now, they've stripped her of her place on the local Council,” Jane said. “And she will be placed under the mentorship of a local vampire with an exemplary discipline record, who can teach her to behave in a proper, non-murder-y manner. And you know that ban on turning that she was issued when she turned her sister about four hundred years ago? It got extended for another three hundred years.”

“Do we
have
any local vampires with an exemplary discipline record?” I asked.

“They're still looking,” Jane admitted. “And given the amount of ‘unorthodox' vampire activity in the area, the national-level Council officials aren't willing to leave that spot open for any amount of time, especially with the spot already left open by Mr. Marchand's demise.”

“I told them that it was going to bite them in the ass, not filling Waco's spot for so long,” Cal said.

“Well, with Sophie requesting ‘retirement,' the national Council was not willing to leave the local branch solely in Peter's hands. So they made two emergency appointments.”

My mouth fell open, and I clapped my hand over it. “No!” I exclaimed. “As in ‘See Dick and Jane legislate'?”

“More like ‘See Dick and Jane make decisions for a shadowy para-government organization that makes them uncomfortable,' ” Jane muttered.

Dick leaned his head against the couch. “You're speaking to the newest representatives of the local Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead.”

“We are now part of the leadership for all of
the vampires in this region. And they gave Dick Cheney authority,” Jane said, as if she still couldn't believe it had happened. “They trusted
Dick
with making decisions that affect the local vampire population.”

“I don't see how me having authority is more frightening than you having authority,” Dick shot back.

“Between the two of us, I'm the one with a clean arrest record,” she retorted.

“No, you aren't,” he said, shaking his head.

“That was one time!” she exclaimed. “As opposed to your multitude of times!”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Iris sighed.

“Why didn't they pick Gabriel? No offense, Dick.”

Dick shrugged. “No, I asked them that myself.”

“According to Peter Crown, who nominated us, he wanted some form of entertainment at the meeting, and he thought that Dick and I would be able to provide that somehow,” Jane said. “I think they did it to try to bring the crime rate down, putting Dick out of commission with legitimacy.”

Dick cleared his throat and with great pomposity said, “Well, my first official act as supreme ruler—”

“I am ninety percent sure that was not the title they gave us,” Jane interjected.

“We requested that Ophelia be allowed to enroll in the college of her choice. She's never obtained a full undergraduate degree. I think it's time.” Dick was clearly very pleased with himself and preened more than a little bit.

“And I wonder if the college of her choice will be UK,” Iris said with a smirk. “Maybe that will keep her from trying to kill you again.”

“Maybe. What about Georgie?”

“Georgia has requested permission to live on her own, with some supervision. I think it would be good for both girls to have some space.”

“Well, at least Ophelia will stop being angry with me,” I said. “Wait, that means Ophelia will be roaming around my college campus next year? Dang it, Jane!”

“That was a consequence I did not see coming,” she said, chewing her lip.

“I thought you were a psychic!” I hissed.

“Not that kind of psychic,” she said, pouting.

“You will be fine,” Nik promised. “I will be close by, and I think Ophelia is so embarrassed by being caught that she will have a hard time making eye contact with me, much less have time to intimidate you.”

“It's the annoyance factor, not intimidation,” I protested. “I punched her in the face. You take away a great deal of personal power when you punch someone in the face.”

“To punching Ophelia in the face!” Iris exclaimed, raising her glass. But when she realized that no one else in the room had a drink, she hopped up from the couch. “Oh, sorry, I'll get some drinks, and we can toast Ophelia's facial beat-down properly.”

“Ooh, do you still have that Godiva blood liqueur?” Jane asked, following her into the kitchen. “I loved that the last time we were here.”