Fashionably Dead

by Robyn Peterman

That juicy tidbit set them all off as they yelled at each other about what to do with me. This was absolutely ridiculous. If I was going to die, I may as well go out fighting. What the hell were my choices? I wracked my brain to think of what I could say that would satisfy them enough to let me leave or kill me quickly.

  “I’m an Angel-Vamp,” I shouted over their argument. That shut them up, and if I’m not mistaken, scared them.

  “Prove it,” Red growled.

  “Um . . . ” Well, now I was screwed.

  “She can’t prove it, Raquel,” Lelia said. Ethan just stared at me, a slight smile playing on his all too perfect face.

  “It’s not that I can’t,” I bluffed, “it’s that I won’t. Since you all seem so interested in what I am, I’d like to know what exactly you are. Besides certifiable,” I added quietly.

  Not quietly enough. Red . . . oops, I mean Raquel knocked me to the ground with a force that startled me and hurt like hell. I cried out as she straddled me and slapped me hard across the face. I felt my lip split and my cheek start to swell. I struggled but was no match for her. Lelia, formerly Brownie, held my arms down and I could swear both of their eyes were glowing like emerald green flashlights.

  “Enough,” shouted Ethan, grabbing the girls like they were rag dolls and flinging them into nearby graves. I struggled to my feet and tried to run, but Ethan held me tight to his chest. God, his chest was amazing. I wondered how it would look and feel without the T-shirt in the way. What in the hell was wrong with me? He was not that hot, plus he wanted to kill me. Well, he was that hot, but he was still going to kill me.

  I watched in shock as Red and Brownie, or rather Raquel and Lelia stood up and brushed themselves off as if nothing had happened. They should have been decapitated after the way their heads hit those crypts. I was sure I was hallucinating. Raquel grabbed her arm which was grotesquely twisted behind her back and popped it back into place. The huge gash on Lelia’s cheek healed as I watched. They must be old to heal that fast.

  “That’s it, Ethan,” Raquel screamed. “You could have knocked my arm off and I don’t have the time or the patience to grow a new one, Asshole.”

  Well, there was one question answered.

  “So let her go,” she continued, “because now I’m going to kick your ass. It’s about time you knew what it felt like to be legless.”

  Lelia laughed and clapped her hands. “I’ll hold the little Angel,” she said, grabbing me from Ethan.

  He turned on her quickly and snarled, “If you hurt her, you will be permanently dead. Do you understand me?”

  Lelia blanched. I suppose he wanted to kill me himself after he was done ripping his other sister’s legs off. Lelia quickly nodded to Ethan and loosened her vise-like grip on me.

  “Bring it,” snapped Raquel.

  “As you wish,” he growled.

  They began to circle one another like predatory animals. They were both so very beautiful and so very deadly. At least they were off the subject of killing me, but now they were more intent on killing each other. I glanced around the graveyard and wondered if there was any way to escape. This absolutely sucked. I was about to witness some limb-ripping, and then I was going to die . . . for real. Just as they were about to attack each other, something changed in me.

  I could feel it in my body. Heat surged through me. I could see everything around me glowing in sparkling golds and peaches. It was wonderful. I smiled and flicked my fingers and a breeze laced with glitter lifted my hair off my neck and hugged my body. Lelia was blown away from me and I was free. I felt strong and beautiful. Plus, I was no longer scared. Part of me knew I’d jumped off the Bridge of Sanity and part of me didn’t care.

  My three new friends—I use the term very loosely—stared in awe. Lelia and Raquel huddled together and backed away while Ethan advanced on me, wonder and desire in his eyes. My fangs descended, as did his. Oookay, a little freaky, but strangely hot. Was this the Vampyre sign for “I’d like to get you naked”?

  As much as I wanted to see where this would lead, Ethan scared the hell out of me, and still possibly wanted to kill me. I backed away from him and he stopped. His gaze never left mine, and a new kind of heat started searing its way through my body. I knew he could sense what I was feeling because I knew exactly what he was feeling.

  God, this Vampyre crap was complicated. Just when I thought I had a handle on my power some new freaky wrinkle got thrown in.

  Suddenly I was barraged with images from his head—very naked, very explicit images of what he wanted to do to me. Oh. My. God. He was bad. Really good, but really bad. I’d never done half of that stuff he wanted to do. If his visions were accurate, he was quite something naked. Had I still been capable of blushing, I would have been a deep crimson. He grinned at me and ran his tongue across his lips. The tongue I wanted on my lips, in my mouth, not to mention other places like on my . . . wait . . . what is wrong with me and when did my inner slut take over? I swear to God, I wasn’t usually this much of a ho-bag, but all I wanted to do was jump the crazy killer Vampyre and have my way with him. How in the hell was this man making me feel this way without touching me? Why did I feel such a connection to him?

  A soft breeze blew up around my body, whipping my hair and lifting my skirt. Ethan’s gaze slipped from my face to my legs. Thank Jesus I had good panties on. Wait . . . Why the hell did I care what kind of panties I had on? Five minutes ago the son of a bitch tried to kill me. Lord have mercy, I’d almost gone commando. That would have been bad.

  I lifted my hand and flicked my fingers again and a glittery breeze engulfed me. Ethan began to come towards me again with a very determined look in his eyes. This both excited and scared the bejesus out of me. His intention was clearly carnal as evidenced by the lust in his eyes and the enormous bulge in his jeans. I caught myself moving towards him. While a huge part of me wanted to tackle the gorgeous killer and make him see God, the saner part of me somehow prevailed.

  I flicked my fingers three more times, flinging glitter wildly around me. I knew with every fiber of my being that I needed to leave this place now or I would not be responsible for what I did. Having sex with a strange killer Vampyre in a graveyard while his sisters watched was just not my usual M.O. no matter how mouthwatering the Vampyre might be. Ethan stopped and tried to reach for me. I stepped back and heard him ask, “What is your name?”

  I looked into his beautiful eyes and said nothing. He took a step closer. My body began to tingle with anticipation . . . and then I vanished.

  Chapter 8

  I woke up in a pile of bodies on my bed. Mine, Gemma’s, Pam’s and The Kev’s. What the fu . . . ?

  “Um . . . guys? As much as I love all of you this just seems wrong. Like against the law wrong.”

  “Oh my God,” Gemma jerked awake, grabbed my face and started crying. “Astrid, you’re alive!”

  “Of course I’m alive . . . at least as alive as a dead person can be,” I said, pushing The Kev off of me. “Why wouldn’t I be alive?”

  Pam rolled herself off of my bed. How in the hell did we all fit on my bed? “Well, Assmunch, when you showed up last night you were convulsing in a funnel of Fairy Glitter. You had just transported yourself, which only Angels or Fairies should be able to do, and your eyeballs were rolling back into your head like a rabid dog. Call me nutty, but we were a little concerned.”

  “Krumecaca!” The Kev woke up and shouted with great joy. He tackled me in a hug, possibly breaking a rib. “My goodness of the sakes,” he yelled, “we were so worried with the crazy sparkles and the crazy hairdo and your eyeballs rolling around in your head like a wild animal with the rabies and . . . ”

  “Thank you,” I cut him off, “enough with the scary Astrid imagery. I get it.”

  Pam walked over to my vanity and sat, or rather copped a squat on my little stool. The Kev was pacing. To my horror he was wearing a red, white, and blue Speedo . . . .and nothing else. Bless his heart.

  Pam rested her head in her ha
nds. And The Kev, despite his wrong-on-every-level clothing choice, looked gravely serious.

  “What?” I was getting uncomfortable. “Why are you acting like somebody died? Oh shit, did I kill someone?”

  “Hell no,” Pam bellowed. “Sit your skinny ass down and shut up.”

  I obediently walked over to my bed and curled up next to Gemma. She put her arms around me and stroked my hair.

  “Did anyone see you disappear?” Pam questioned, wringing her hands.

  “Yes.” I hesitated, remembering the effect that the gorgeous Rogue Vampyre had on me. “Three Vampyres.”

  “Fuck,” Pam shouted as The Kev’s pace picked up. He ran his hands through his hair and mumbled to himself.

  A lead ball sat in the pit of my stomach. My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. “What? What did I do?”

  “Did you know these Vampyres? Were they from the Cressida House?” she asked.

  “No,” I sniffled. “I didn’t know them. I don’t think they were the good kind.” Although . . . one of them did have a crazy good ass. What the hell? Talk about inappropriate thoughts. I needed to erase him from my brain. “If I had to guess, I’d say they were the Rogue Vamps I was warned about.” I got up and reached for the phone. “I need to call Venus and tell her.”

  “No!” The Kev tackled me to the floor.

  “Get. Off. Me.” I ground out, positive he’d cracked a rib. The Kev gently picked me up, sat me on the bed with Gemma and patted my head like a dog. My eyes, now a bright emerald green, bored into Pam’s. “Tell me what in the hell is going on.”

  Pam looked up to the heavens for a long moment, then at The Kev, and then finally back at me. “You have powers that Vampyres are not supposed to have. Ever. I am assuming you will need these powers for your path in life, but it would have been a fuckload better if nobody knew about them.”

  “Call me crazy,” I snapped, “but wouldn’t that have been a good thing to tell me?”

  “Little Wienersnitchzel, we did not know you were that powerful yet. It should have taken decades for you to be at such a high level.” The Kev shook his head in confusion.

  “Why?” Gemma asked. “There has to be a reason why she can do what she did.”

  Pam’s brow furrowed, “I’m not sure. The Angel and Fairy blood have something to do with it, but I have never seen anything like this.”

  “What about her sire?” Gemma stood up and started pacing with The Kev.

  “My what?” I asked.

  “The Vampyre who made you,” Gemma said. Of course Gemma, the supernatural junkie, would know more Vampyre lore and lingo than me.

  “That’s it!” The Kev shouted, slapping Gemma’s tush lovingly. She blushed furiously, looking quite pleased with her discovery and The Kev’s love pat.

  “You’re right . . . it has to be her maker. She must have been one old and powerful motherfucker. That’s the only way to explain it,” Pam said, relieved to have an explanation. “That, coupled with our blood, has made you the Bionic Vamp.”

  “Is it reversible?” I asked hopefully.

  “Nope,” The Kev and Pam answered together.

  “It will only get stronger,” Pam added.

  “Why is her power such a problem?” Gemma asked.

  Wait a minute. Was she scooting closer to The Kev?

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure it is,” Pam said, rummaging through my drawers. “For whatever reason power always ends up being a problem. It will make our Assnoodle a target for Vampyres who will want to use her gift for their own gain, possibly even kill her out of fear. You,” she pointed at me, “are not ready to defend yourself against a Vamp with two hundred or three hundred or even five years of experience.”

  “What in the hell is my gift?” I asked.

  “Assbutt, I don’t even know. Right now you can transport and throw Fairy Dust, which can freeze or confuse people. Hell, tomorrow you might be able to fly and turn people into toads. It’s anybody’s guess at this point.” Pam shook her head.

  Oh my God, this was bad. I did not want to be some crazy powerful Vampyre that would cause other Vamps to want to kick my ass or kill me.

  Pam found some lip-gloss and tried it on, checking herself out in the mirror. Clearly unhappy with her choice, she went back to rummaging. “Anyway,” she said, spritzing herself with my expensive French perfume, “you need to lay low. Don’t go to the Cressida House except for your lessons with Venus and don’t offer up any information about last night.”

  “What if they ask?” I said.

  “Why the fuck would they ask? They don’t know anything about it.” Pam found my nose hair clipper and turned it on.

  “True, but what if they do?” I watched in utter disbelief as she stuck my nose hair clipper up her nose. Not only was that disgusting, it was totally unsanitary.

  “I’m an Angel, Assface. What do you think? That I’ll tell you to lie? If—and only if—they ask, then tell them.”

  “Okay,” I snapped, “that’s all I wanted to know.”

  Pam rolled her eyes, went back to her nose, and got busy.

  Chapter 9

  After a lot of consideration, several more human artery lessons, and some life-threatening encouragement from Pam, I finally drank mortal blood.

  From Gemma.

  To make Pam happy.

  And to continue to live another day.

  If you asked The Kev, he’d tell you that Gem wasn’t totally mortal. He wasn’t sure what she was, but he was convinced she had “the Magic.” I was convinced he had it bad. I caught The Kev practicing a Michael Jackson medley, crotch grab and all. Ahhh, the lengths a Fairy would go to impress a woman.

  If The Kev was correct about Gemma, I still hadn’t had mortal blood. God only knows what secret superpower Gemma’s blood would give me. Magic or mortal, Gemma tasted yummy, just like a best friend should.

  “What does it feel like?” I asked, licking the punctures to stop the bleeding and handing her wrist back to her.

  “It kind of tickles, in a fuzzy way.”

  “Does it feel sexual?”

  “No. Does it to you?” Gemma asked, wiping a blood smear from my mouth.

  “Not at all.” I lamented the fact that my blood drinking may never be a sexual experience for me, or for anyone else.

  Gemma tucked her hair behind her ears and hummed a few bars of ‘Rock with You’. “Dude, maybe you just need to suck the right guy to make it all hot and steamy.”

  “Possibly,” I agreed, envisioning a beautiful blonde Vampyre with gold eyes and a huge . . . don’t go there. I’d been daydreaming about him constantly, about how his lips would feel pressed against mine. I wondered if he really looked that good naked, and I couldn’t get his scent out of my nose. Forget my nose. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was my every other stinkin’ thought. I was obsessed with Ethan, the Evil Rogue Killer Vampyre. With great effort, I pushed him over to the far left side of my mind. It was useless to lust after someone I’d never see again anyway. I hadn’t told Gemma about him. I knew if I did, she’d latch on like a pit bull and not let go. I hadn’t dated anyone in a while. A long while. According to Gemma, who never lacked for dates, that was a bad thing. Secretly I agreed with her, but outwardly I simply pretended not to care.

  I didn’t date much. Apparently all men were losers and only good for one thing. My mother had beaten this nifty little fact into my brain since birth, ensuring I would be wary of the opposite sex. It had worked.

  My mother couldn’t bother to remember my father’s name.

  My mother’s father had died in Vietnam. By the time she was an adult, she couldn’t be bothered to remember his name either. I knew that hurt my Nana, but my mother was an odd duck, and a cold, unhappy, and very angry woman.

  She had a mother who loved her, despite her shortcomings, and a daughter who adored her. A daughter who in adulthood had racked up several thousand hours of therapy, trying to figure out why her mother didn’t love her, along with wh
y she couldn’t maintain a relationship with a man for more than two weeks.

  You’d think after that upbringing I’d harbor some extremely nasty feelings for her. I didn’t. I didn’t exactly worship her anymore, but I didn’t hate her. Sadly, I couldn’t ratchet up enough emotion to feel much of anything for her. On the other hand, if I were really honest with myself, unfortunately there was still part of me that thought I could make her love me. Ahhh, those wonderful childhood fantasies.

  Gemma held up her other wrist, snapping me out of my walk down dysfunction lane, “Do you want any more?”

  “Sure,” I said, hunkering down. Gemma turned the volume back up on my brand new flat screen plasma TV, compliments of the Vampyres at the Aurora and Lucern Houses. In a matter of three hours they had completely repaired my house and brought me all new furniture. I was tempted to invite Muffy and Paris over and let them have at it in my kitchen. I could use some new appliances.

  ***

  Holy hell. I jerked awake trying to figure out where I was. This Vampyre crap was messing with my sleep. What time was it? What in the hell was I doing here? Wait . . . I was home . . . in my bed. I was okay. I had just taken a nap.

  I was home in my own bedroom and I’d had the dream.

  Again.

  Damn that Lady in the Tomb. She usually only popped into my dreams once a month or once every few months. Now she was popping in every other night. I was getting closer to getting her out of that tomb. I supposed if the dream kept rearing its bizarre head, I’d have her out of there by the end of the week.

  I considered going back to sleep, but the movement on my ceiling caught my attention. Rachel, Ross, Honest Abe, and Beyonce were tap dancing. I’d named my monsters. I figured since I’d arrived in Crazytown, I may as well take off my coat and stay a while. It was odd. Out of all the little monsters living on my ceiling, the four of them really stood out. It started slowly with a shy nod and a wave, and then progressed to a full on dance party by day five.

  I decided after a week and a half of bonding, and dancing, that they deserved better than just being called ‘monster’. Hence their names, given because of their uncanny resemblance to their historical counterparts. I loved them and they loved me. No one could take them away, not even my mother.