Vampire Girl

by Karpov Kinrade

  For the rest of the family, I acquire the most mouth watering fudge from Prince Zeb's realm of gluttony. He definitely has the best food in the Seven Realms. I also pick up silks and luxurious fabrics for my soul-mom who loves to sew, sheet music for my soul-dad who can often be found at the piano, throw blankets made from the softest cloth I've ever felt, though no one will tell me what it is, and a few rare gemstones from King Fenris's realm, which boasts a garden made of crystals.

  The gifts are wrapped in thick red wrapping and loaded into a leather bag, along with changes of clothes and personal items for us, and a few extra liters of blood.

  Sebastian holds an expensive bottle of cognac, unwilling to put it in the bag for fear of it breaking. "For emergencies," he says, eyeing it.

  I just laugh.

  When Christmas Eve arrives, we both change into more ordinary clothes and head by boat to the closest mirror on Inferna. Mirrors are heavily guarded here, and hard to come by. It's a security measure, Sebastian explained. To keep enemies from transporting wherever they wanted and staging ambushes. All public use mirrors are monitored by two armed guards at all times, and passing through reminds me a bit of traveling overseas. "Where are you going?" "For what purpose?" "What are you bringing with you?" "How do you plan to feed while away?"

  Okay, that last question is less typical of my previous travels, but still. Very similar, including long lines waiting times. It seems we aren't the only vampires traveling to Earth for the holiday. It makes me wonder what kinds of lives most vampires lead. We keep to ourselves mostly, and I haven't really made friends in Inferna, unless you count books.

  When it's our turn, we answer the questions and are admitted through, after a brief search of our bags.

  "What are they worried we will smuggle over?" I ask as we finally approach the mirror.

  "Any number of things. Mostly magical artifacts that would put too much power in the hand of humans."

  Sebastian holds my left hand, and I place my right hand over the mirror as I close my eyes and imagine the cracked bathroom mirror of Dusty's Pub. And then the magic of the portal sucks us in, and we whirl through an empty vastness that always leaves my head spinning after.

  We come out the other side and land in the bathroom just as I pictured it.

  I quickly pull Sebastian into an empty stall when I realize the second stall is occupied. I hold a finger up to my mouth and gesture for him to squat on the toilet so his head and feet won't be visible to anyone who might look.

  "Eh, excuse me, could you pass some toilet paper. Mine's empty."

  With a start I realize a woman is speaking to me. "Um, sure." I pull out a wad and pass it under the stall to her. A time honored tradition amongst women everywhere.

  "Thanks. Too many beers got me pissing like a racehorse," she guffaws, flushing and stomping out with heavy black boots. She leaves without washing her hands, the bathroom door clicking behind her.

  There's only one small mirror in the bathroom, too small for either of us to climb out of, so we will have to leave through the door and hope no-one questions how we got here.

  I open the door slowly and peak out, scanning the hall for signs of other patrons. "All clear," I say softly. Sebastian and I make our way to the bar, trying to pretend we belong and didn't just magically appear in the bathroom. My husband finally relents and puts the cognac in our bag, since showing up with our own alcohol would look odd. We get lucky in that there is only one person drinking at the bar.

  Our lucks ends there, though. Outside it is still bright and sunny. The blinds are drawn, so we are safe enough indoors, but we won't be able to leave for many hours.

  We get a table as far from everything as we can, and I head to the bar to order our drinks, while Sebastian guards our belongings.

  Carrying shots and a bottle of their most expensive liquor—which isn't saying much—I rejoin Sebastian and we drink in silence for a time. Both of us are anxious for the sun to go down and to be on our way.

  "We're okay going into churches, right?" I ask, with sudden worry. I hadn't given thought to it. I'm not a religious person, but I do join Shelly's family for the traditional Christmas Eve service.

  "We are," he says. "There are some holy objects that can harm us, but none that would likely be in a church here," he says, his expression not hiding his dislike of small country towns. To be honest, I don't blame him. There's a reason I lived in Las Vegas for so long.

  After two hours, we both have a solid buzz, thanks to a potion Sebastian slipped into our drink to give the alcohol more kick. Vampire metabolisms burn through liquor too fast for it to do much on its own.

  We talk about books, plans for our future, and I tell him about the family he will soon be meeting.

  We weather the forced wait well enough, until a voice from the past sucks the blood from my face.

  "Ember White. Is that really you? I didn't know you were back in town."

  I turn in my seat to face a man I never wanted to see again.

  "Hi, Pat. Yes, it's really me."

  Chapter 3

  Sebastian tenses. He's been around the block enough times to read a room, and he can tell I do not want to be in any room with the man standing before us.

  Pat postures, all smiles as if we are old friends catching up. "What brings you back to town?" he asks.

  I narrow my eyes at him, hating his way of acting like the good guy when I know he's not. "Not you," I say coldly. "Now if you'll excuse us, we were having a private conversation."

  When it looks like Pat is about to take a seat at our booth rather than leave us alone, Sebastian stands, towering over Pat—who's never been particularly tall. My husband is built of solid muscle, with a six pack fitness magazines would pay to photograph, and that fact is not lost on Pat, who takes a step back.

  I can't see Sebastian's face, as his back is to me, but I can imagine the intense stare he’s sending Pat's way, which might explain the change in Pat’s complexion. Pasty isn't a good look on him.

  He tries to save face with a forced smirk in my direction before he heads to the bar and orders a beer.

  Sebastian slides back into the booth, his face hard and cold. "Who is that asshole?" he asks.

  "Just someone I made the mistake of dating once. In high school. Don't worry about it. He's not worth our energy."

  I try to say all this casually, but I'm not good at hiding emotions. Especially from my husband.

  To distract him, I glance at the windows and smile. "The sun has set. Let's get out of here!"

  I feel Pat's eyes bore into my back as we leave the pub and walk through the small town until we reach Shelly's house.

  It sits in a subdivision of cookie cutter homes that only have slight variations to their designs. The entire neighborhood is painted in shades of taupe, beige and brown, giving it a uniform look. I reach for Sebastian's hand and walk up to the front door, my heart beating against my chest as I knock.

  I hear footsteps running down stairs and a voice screaming, "Mom, someone's at the door." A dog barks, something made of glass falls to the ground and breaks, and another voice yells, "Bad dog, Bernie. Bad dog. Mom! Bernie broke the vase."

  Sebastian raises an eyebrow at me and I shrug. "Domestic bliss," I say.

  He smiles wryly.

  The door swings open, revealing my oldest friend—my soul sister—holding pieces of a broken vase in one hand and the collar of a large beast of a dog in the other. She's wearing a red skirt and white blouse and an apron that's got a dusting of flour on it. Her brown hair is pulled into a French braid that's starting to come undone, and her makeup, likely put on recently, already needs a touch up.

  Still, she looks beautiful. A domestic goddess. I smile. "Hello, Shelly!"

  Shelly's eyes widen. "Ember?"

  She puts the broken glass on the entry table and passes the dog off to a little imp of a child who keeps glances at us as she walks the dog away, scolding him again.

  "It's me. Merry Christmas!"


  She leans in to hug me, and then pulls back, looking at us both again. "You haven't aged a day. In fact, you look younger and more supermodel gorgeous than you did last year. How's that possible?"

  I give a nervous glance to Sebastian who squeezes my hand.

  "You have to share your skin care regime," she says, staring at my perfect skin.

  "Blood," I say, then bite my tongue, realizing I spoke out loud.

  Sebastian raises an eyebrow, but Shelly just laughs. "Of your enemies, I assume?"

  I chuckle. "Of course. It makes for the youngest looking skin."

  Shelly rolls her eyes and looks at Sebastian. "You must be the surprise husband."

  Sebastian smiles and holds out his hand. "I am indeed. Sebastian Kingston. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for inviting us over for the holidays."

  His words—combined with the sexiest British accent ever—melt her. She invites us in, shuffling us around the remnants of glass on the floor. "Sorry about the mess. My husband got the kids a dog as an early Christmas present… without consulting me. We're still in an adjustment phase."

  "He's a big dog," I say stating the obvious.

  She chuckles ruefully. "That he is. Big and boisterous and oblivious to everything around me. A charming combination." She sighs, pushing a lock of stray hair out of her eyes and leaving a smudge of flour in its place. "But the girls adore him. So… what can you do?"

  She ushers us into the living room, which is littered with dolls, stuffed animals, a toy train and a microscope set. "Looks like Christmas has already arrived," I say smiling at the chaos of it all.

  "Early gifts from friends and such." In the corner is a large tree decorated with ornaments that are mostly made by the children or collected over the years, with piles of brightly wrapped packages underneath, ready for tomorrow. A nativity set adorns the mantlepiece above the fireplace that four stockings hang from.

  The house smells of cinnamon and apples and everywhere I look are touches of the holiday season. Garland, wreaths, reindeer, lights. "Your home is lovely," I say, as Sebastian pulls out the gifts from our bag.

  I place them under the tree with the rest and follow Shelly into the kitchen, where her two daughters are busy bees. Monica, a lanky twelve-year-old, stirs a pot on the stove. She smiles, brushing her dark blond hair out of her eyes. "Hi Aunt Ember," she says. "Merry Christmas."

  "Hi honey! It's so good to see you. You've grown a lot since last year."

  Mallory, a precocious ten-year-old, is standing on a stool trying to reach something on a tall shelf. Sebastian walks over to her. "Can I help with anything?"

  She looks up at him and her eyes widen. "Are you my new uncle?" she asks.

  He chuckles. "I suppose I am."

  She grins and hugs him around the waist, surprising him. "You feel like stone," she says, patting his stomach.

  "You're being rude," Monica shouts, covering the pot she'd been stirring.

  "Am not," Mallory says.

  Sebastian helps Mallory reach the bread crumbs she was after, and she blushes and thanks him, running over to Shelly, who's watching her kids with a smile.

  I lean into her, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Are you angry with me?"

  She turns to me, her face unreadable. "Of course not. I just wish I could have been there on your big day." She leans in, whispering. "He's hot."

  Then she sees my wedding ring and her mouth drops open. She grabs my hand, studying my finger, and the giant stone on it. "Is that real?" she asks in a hushed voice. "Oh my god, I know that's totally rude, but… is it?"

  I nod.

  "Damn, girl. Where'd you find this guy?"

  I shrug, because that's a whole story, isn't it? But I stick to the basics. "We were pen pals and decided to meet for coffee after a year of exchanging letters. One thing led to another, and… " I shrug. "Here we are."

  She hugs me again. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve the best. Especially after everything you went through back in the day."

  My face darkens. "Speaking of, you'll never guess who—"

  "Ah!" a scream cuts me off, and we both turn back to the kitchen, where Mallory is crying, holding her hand, and Sebastian is comforting her and running it under cold water.

  "What happened?" Shelly asks, rushing over.

  With huge tears falling down her face, Mallory points her non-injured hand towards her sister. "She burned me!"

  Monica fumes. "I did not. You bumped into me while I was cooking and oil splashed on your hand. It wasn't my fault. You should watch where you're going."

  Shelly examines the burn and sighs. "I think we need to go to the ER. This looks like a third degree burn."

  I glance at Sebastian, a silent request in my eyes. He nods, understanding. "I have a first aid cream that might do the trick. Would you like to try it first and see if it helps?"

  Mallory sniffs. "Let uncle help me, mommy. He'll fix it," she says with child-like faith.

  Sebastian retrieves a small glass jar from our bag and instructs Mallory to keep her hand still. "This will sting, but only for a moment. Then it will feel cool, like ice. Then the pain will go away. I'll wrap it up and by the time the bandage comes up, you should be good as new."

  Shelly frowns at the promise, and I understand her skepticism. The poor girl's hand is swelling quickly, with an ugly red oil burn blistering on her pale skin. But I give them both a reassuring smile. What's the harm of using a little magic to help our niece? They'll never know.

  Mallory's eyes dry up fast as the balm begins its healing, and she looks to her mom in surprise. "It's doesn't hurt anymore!" she says in awe.

  When Sebastian finishes the wrap, she throws herself into his arms. "Thank you, Uncle Seb."

  "Looks like you've got a nickname," I say, grinning, as he packs up the balm before anyone notices its ethereal color and quality. It's imbued with Fae magic and has a soft glow to it.

  He wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Maybe we should think about having a few of these tiny humans. They could be fun."

  Shelly hustles the children out of the kitchen and pours a glass of wine for the three of us. We join her at the kitchen table.

  "Where's Jared?" I ask, sipping at the merlot.

  She rolls her eyes. "Who the hell knows. Out. He'll be back in time to play super dad and perfect husband, dressed for church tonight."

  Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise. "What's going on?" I ask.

  She shrugs, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know, Em. We had the perfect marriage. The perfect life. But the last six months, he's changed. He sleeps all day. Takes off at night and doesn't come home until the early morning. He promised tonight he'd be back for the service, but otherwise I wouldn't see him at all."

  "Is he sick?" I ask.

  She shakes her head. "Pale, maybe, but actually he's never looked better. I'm worried he's having an affair, actually," she says, biting her lip. "I'm sorry to dump all of this on you the moment you arrive, but I didn't know who else I could talk to."

  "Don't be sorry," I say, my mind spinning with impossible ideas. "We'll help figure this out while we're here. Sebastian is good at getting people to confide in him," I say, giving a pointed nod to my husband.

  "Really?" Shelly asks, wiping her eyes. "You don't mind?"

  He shakes his head. "Not at all. We'll find out what's going on with him. I promise."

  "Thank you, both. It's been such a stressful time. Between Jared acting so peculiar, the girls fighting non-stop, and the local murders that have stumped law enforcement, I've had my hands full. The paper has me working more hours than usual to cover any developments on the case," she says.

  "Shelly's a local journalist," I explain to Sebastian. "The best in town."

  She huffs. "That's a low bar by any standard."

  "You could have gotten a job anywhere," I remind her.

  "I know. I came back for a boy. The stupidest of all reasons."

  "What murders?" Sebastian asks, his face a mask.


  "Oh. Um. Very strange actually. Three female prostitutes have turned up dead, almost entirely drained of blood. No one can figure it out. The press is calling him Ripper, for obvious reasons." She stands, schooling her face into a smile. "But enough about that. Let me show you your room. You can freshen up before the service tonight."

  Shelly leads us upstairs to a guest bedroom at the end of the hall. "Let me know if you need anything. I'm going to finish up the dinner prep for tomorrow and freshen up myself. Jared should be back in an hour and we can head to the church. I wish you could have come earlier, you missed mom and dad. But they'll be back tonight. What time did your flight land? I could have picked you up."

  "It was no trouble. There are plenty of cabs," I say, not exactly lying, and avoiding the flight question altogether.

  "Okay then. See you soon."

  When she leaves I turn to Sebastian, my face losing color, as I process what my best friend just told me.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask.

  "If you're thinking that Shelly's husband has been turned into a vampire and might be killing young women, then yes. I'm thinking what you're thinking."

  Chapter 4

  I slump onto the bed with a sigh. "What are we going to do?" I ask.

  "We'll do what we told Shelly we'd do," he says. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Though she might not like the end result."

  "How did this happen?" I ask. "We're in small town Ohio. Why are there vampires turning people here? And what about the Council? Shouldn't they be all over this?"

  "I'll send a message to Sly," he says. "In the meantime, let's get ready for church and see what we can discover about Jared when he comes home."