“But how…? I mean—this?” Galen asked, pointing to Nina’s retracting fangs. “How did that happen? Did one of these bastards bite you? Try to drain you?”
Nina held up her finger and grinned. “So, funny fucking thing. The kid was howling something fierce. I’m layin’ bets it’s her teeth. When he got us back here, that freak was threatening all sorts of shit you should have let me kill him for when the killin’ was good. Calista was so worked up, I stuck my finger in her mouth to see if she’d latch on and maybe it would quiet her. I’m here to tell ya, she latched on—and she’s definitely getting her teeth.”
January’s mouth fell open in shock, her hands going to her cheeks.
“Close your mouth there, Doc. I can see your tonsils,” Nina teased, tugging the end of January’s braid.
“Calista turned you?” January asked in disbelief.
“Best I can tell, that’s what did it.”
“That explains why my wand wouldn’t heal you! I thought you were dead because you were. That’s why you were so lethargic. You were in vampire stasis. Oh my Goddess, you were going through the change!”
Everyone began to laugh then as they all started piling toward the stairs. But January stopped in her tracks. “Hold up though, Vampire. This just occurred to me. You made my wand work—really work. You can’t do that…” January shook her head in wonder. “But it worked for you. Holy cow, it worked for you!”
Nina just shrugged. “So? What’s your point? And hurry it up, I need blood, Doc. Don’t make me drain your tiny body dry for my first fix.”
“Remember all that yellow smoke?”
Nina rolled her eyes and snorted. “Yeah. It’s the ugliest damn color on the planet. What about it?”
January gripped her arm in excitement, her happiness a big bubble waiting to burst. “Guess what that is?”
“Smoke, Doc. It’s smoke. What the hell are you getting at here?”
“Calista is half vampire, half witch, Nina. That means, you’re not just a vampire—but a witch now, too!”
Nina’s mouth fell open as everyone around them gasped.
“Close your mouth there, Vampire-slash-Witch. I can see your tonsils,” January teased, pinching her cheek.
“And the smoke?” Marty asked, her blue eyes dancing. “What’s the significance of the smoke?”
January grinned. “The smoke is your witch signature. Sort of like signing your name in the universe. Mine is pink.”
“So wait—that means my fucking signature smoke is yellow?” Nina squawked with clear indignation.
“Um, yep,” January confirmed, fighting a chuckle.
“Ahahahahahaha!” Marty barked her laughter, followed swiftly by Wanda, who was almost in tears from laughing so hard. They clung to each other, falling into each other laughing, as Nina frowned and made a face.
Then she flipped them all the bird before she stomped up the steps. “Fuck you, you smelly Ass-Sniffer, and fuck your smoke, Doc. Who the fresh hell do I talk to so I can trade that shit in for a nice deep purple? Shit, I’ll even take blue.”
As they climbed the stairs and wended their way down the hallway, their laughter filled the musty basement.
Filled it to the brim.
* * * *
“And that, esteemed council, is how Nina Statleon got her fang back,” Wanda finished, her eyes alight with the fierce speech she’d just given to the elders of the summit.
January gave her the thumbs-up and grinned as she sat next to Galen, who’d kept her close to his side since the events of Saturday night.
The elder representing werewolf in a long embroidered robe pointed a gnarled finger at Artem, who was bound with special handcuffs made just for vampires detained in police custody.
“Is what she says the truth? Did you, Artem Casteel, murder Mathias Rigby in order to gain control of your clan? Is it true that your plan is to extinguish all but your own kind? To bribe and lie your way into a position of authority and bend us all to your will?”
Artem’s eyes flashed defiantly as he twisted in his chair, still in his torn, burned suit, his face covered in soot, but he remained stubbornly silent.
January’s coven elder, Agatha Monroe, rose up from her seat, her angry face weathered from age. “Speak!” she demanded. “Speak or lose the option to defend yourself!”
Greg jumped up from the row of chairs they occupied before Artem had the chance to answer. “He can deny it all he wants, Elder Monroe, but I have the proof. May I?”
The crowd that had gathered in the summit’s meeting room gasped as Greg made his way toward the panel’s heavy wooden table, where they all sat to hear each of the people involved testify about what Artem had done.
The dragon elder, an enormous brickhouse of a man who wasn’t half bad to look at in human form, rose and eyed Greg. “Show us,” he ordered with a somber tone.
Darnell popped up out of nowhere to position a projection screen behind the council elders as Greg set up his laptop.
“If you’d all turn and view the screen behind you. I give you irrefutable proof of Artem Casteel’s plan to run anyone not like him out on a rail,” Greg announced, pressing a button on the laptop.
Music filled the large room, some angry speed metal clanging and banging Heath had chosen, because he’d decided it was suitable background music for Artem’s wish for vampiric chaos. It played in all its clatter as a picture of Artem flashed on the screen, his smile smug and confident.
And then the recording kicked in. “Mathias Rigby wasn’t a noble ruler. He was a coward! A coward afraid of his own shadow. I ended his life! My own hands drained him from existence. I did this for you, fine friends, to further our cause! Come Monday, when those inferior fools gather, we’ll remind them of whom we are! We’ll rise from the ashes of this pathetic lot we call modern-day vampire. No more will we allow ourselves to be tainted by the stench of a werewolf, the putrid breath of a dragon, the meek mewling of peace-loving witches! We shall rise and own the world—reinstate the laws of yesteryear. We’ll create chaos and rule with fear and dole out retribution! And then—only then will we take back what is rightfully ours until there’s nothing left but the purity of our breed! I say to you, keep us pure. Keep us pure! Keep us pure!”
On cue, the chanting from Artem’s favored hate-mongers began. “Keep us pure! Keep us pure!”
And the final nail in the coffin: Artem’s picture flashing over and over, his words on constant, stuttered repeat. “Drained him from existence. End-end-ended his life. Drained him from existence…”
The council, along with the crowd, went deafeningly silent as they absorbed the recording.
Goddess love Ingrid, but she’d somehow managed to lose the recorder in her scuffle with Octopus Vampire. They’d come across it as the clan police questioned them inside Artem’s house, and Nina had been smart enough to pocket it for just this occasion.
Artem had indeed killed Mathias Rigby in order to gain power in the ranks of his clan, and it looked like the council was none too pleased. His words—words meant to pump up his sycophants and incite hatred—had come back to bite him in the ass.
Hard.
Elder Monroe finally rose from her seat, her face a mask of tight anger as she stared down Artem, who was positively green, if that were at all possible with a vampire’s pallor. “Did you call my kind ‘meek’?” she asked, haughty and indignant. “Meek?”
The elder dragon blew a breath of air from his lungs onto his hand and sniffed. “Putrid breath?” he bellowed so loud, a spark shot from his mouth.
Artem cringed in his seat as one of those sparks hit his hair, singeing it. Yet still, he kept his mouth firmly shut.
When it was January’s turn to take the stand, her legs shook, but Nina and Galen’s silent support from the crowd kept her on track. As she told the tale of the deal Artem struck with her in exchange for Galen’s life, the council stirred in their chairs uncomfortably.
And then she begged forgiveness for agreeing to
take on a task so heinous, for using her degree as a weapon to do it. But she wouldn’t apologize for doing whatever it took in order to save the life of her child and husband.
But Nina was the one whose testimony resonated loud and clear when asked by her council elder, “The question here is, did Dr. Malone actually assist you? Facilitate your recovery to the best of her ability?”
Nina nodded her dark head as her eyes met January’s. “Fu—Er, yeah. I didn’t want her to. I didn’t like it. But she did it anyway and she did it under some pretty crappy conditions, what with all the pressure from that freak breathing down her neck. She came to me and told me—told us—the truth about what was really going down, why she was doing what she was doing. She told us what that nutball’s plan was. He was going to see me extinguished. She didn’t have to do that. She could’ve saved her dude’s hide and walked away and left me for dead. But she didn’t. She risked everything to help me get through some serious crap in my life. I’ll never forget that, Doc. Not as long as I’m roaming this Earth.”
January had to gulp hard to keep from crying as she gripped Galen’s hand, and Wanda blew Nina a kiss.
And then one by one, the men they’d fought off the other night were forced to give their account of Artem’s parties, and as the last man standing was put into cuffs, the elder representing vampire rose.
Steepling his hands, he gazed out into the audience, his craggy, pale face solemn. “My friends, esteemed members of the council, clan citizens, my humblest, deepest apologies. Artem Casteel shall be punished to the maximum limit our law allows. We wish only to live in peace with one another and all of you—no matter your choice of mate. That such hatred exists in this day and age still takes me quite by surprise, but I will do—and my clan sires will do—everything in our power to eradicate and punish the offenders. We deem it wholly acceptable for Dr. January Malone and Galen Marcus to live freely with their child, and any children to come. So sayeth we all.”
The crowd erupted into cheers, to which the elder representing the bears pounded his gavel. “Order! I demand order!”
But nobody heard, and nobody really cared that they didn’t listen. The happiness filling the room was too much to contain.
Galen swept her up in his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. “So I guess we have to go apartment shopping?”
January smiled up at him, her face wet with tears. “And furniture shopping.”
“Oooo!” Marty cooed, grinning from behind them. “I know exactly where to start! Girls, it’s Ross or bust!”
Nina groaned. “Fuck that, Fakey-Locks. Not effin’ Ross. Do you see what you did here, Doc?” she asked with her best mean face.
But January just smiled and reached around Galen to give her favorite vampire in the world aside from Galen a big fat juicy kiss on her cheek. “Yeah. I do. I see exactly what I did here.”
Epilogue
Three months later…
One ecstatically happy paranormal psychologist, a proud daddy vampire, a halfsie, a pretty blonde werewolf, a burly Scottish familiar who’d made a lifelong manservant friend during a marathon of The Barefoot Contessa, a future veterinarian, an Amazonian-like bear, a demon who couldn’t resist buying plastic magic wands online for the newest member of what he’d dubbed his Toddler Posse, a zombie who religiously took the children to the library once a week, two sweet babies with hair as soft as down and cheeks colored the shade of rose petals, and a brand-new half witch, half vampire gathered with their respective mates to play a rowdy game of Pictionary at a housewarming party for the happy new couple…
“Marty? Does that damn well look like fucking Montana? Jesus Christ on a stick. Sleepless in Seattle, blondie! That’s the state of Washington!”
Marty planted her hands on her hips and gave Nina an indignant stare. “Well, I’m sorry, Miss Geography, but it looks like The Blob!”
January and Galen laughed as they stood in the dining room of their brownstone, a ramshackle mess they were in the process of renovating, as all of their favorite people playfully bickered and visited.
Life had been pretty sweet since that final ruling. She and Galen had bought a house and were finally able to be together as a family. It had taken a bit of adjusting, him with his socks in piles on the floor, and her with her makeup and hairbrushes scattered over the bathroom vanity.
But there wasn’t anywhere either of them would rather be.
Nina dropped in at least twice a week to visit her Smooshie Face and to learn the ways of the coven, something she’d taken very seriously. She was well on her way to earning her own permanent wand—even after the implosion of January’s favorite curio cabinet during a particularly rousing lesson.
Artem and his group were sentenced to eternity in prison, a maximum-security facility guarded by witch magic, where he and his band of haters would never see moonlight again. Many of Galen’s clan had come out of the closet since, each telling a story of oppression and fear while they’d hidden their love for other species of the paranormal.
Best of all, OOPS was cleared and given the go-ahead to keep right on doing what they were doing—with the council’s blessing.
And life for the three of them as a new family was finding some normalcy, getting into a routine, developing a pattern they nurtured with love and treasured above all else.
A howling meow roused January from her thoughts, one so high-pitched and urgent it made everyone pause.
“Jesus, who’s skinning cats?” Nina asked, looking out the big bay window of their living room.
January came to stand next to her as the scratching began. Scratching at her front door that sounded more like a saber-toothed tiger was trying to make his way in—rather than just the tiny black cat they witnessed furiously howling.
“I told you, Galen—it’s a stray. He’s been popping in and out for a few days now and every time I go see if I can coax him inside, he runs away,” January complained.
But Nina held up a hand. “I got this,” she muttered, striding to the door and opening it with caution. She knelt down and rubbed her fingers together. “C’mere, little guy. I won’t hurt ya,” she cooed at him.
When it looked like he was going to take off, Nina swiftly reached out a hand and scooped him up, pulling him close to soothe him as she mashed his face into her chest and rubbed his ears.
He was a tiny little thing the color of night, sleek, with a round belly and an even rounder head. No doubt the runt of the litter.
“Look at you!” Nina rubbed her nose against his. “Who’s so precious? Who’s a good-good boy? Who’s a pretty-pretty boy?”
“Lady?” a voiced groused, husky and annoyed.
Nina’s head bounced upward, her eyes meeting January’s.
“I’m not your goddamn pretty-pretty boy,” the cat said, mimicking Nina’s tone. “Not unless the Calamities you know have a wizter-snitzel, and for Christ’s sake, get the fuck off me! Jesus, I’ve only been beating down this psychobabbler’s door for almost a week since they assigned me to you. What does it take to get your attention, Fang-Banger? And put me the hell down. I’m not your toy. Now—get. Off. Me! Before I turn you into tuna casserole and call it a day!”
All motion ceased as everyone stared at the cat, who wiggled out of Nina’s arms and dropped to the floor on surprisingly graceful paws. “Point me toward the shrimp. I can’t advise and guide with a stomach emptier than your brain.”
Nina blinked, as did January. “What the shit?”
The cat came to rest at her feet, its black tail swishing in wide arcs over the throw rug. “Are you always this thick? Didn’t Coven Central send you the official letter? Wait, of course they didn’t send you a letter. Who am I kidding to think they’d actually do their motherbleedin’ jobs?” the cat asked, staring up at Nina.
“Oooo,” January murmured, fighting to contain her smile. If this was what she thought it was, more therapy might be in Nina’s near future.
“Oooo, what, Doc? What the hell is Coven Cent
ral?” Nina asked, her eyes narrowing at the cat.
January tucked her folded arms under her breasts and tried not to collapse with laughter—but it wasn’t easy. “Wellll…I think he’s your—”
“She, lady. I’m a chick,” the cat interrupted, arching her back to stretch. “My name’s Calamity and I’m your assigned familiar—meant to spend every waking, coffin-loving, fake-blood-drinking moment with you. For fucking eternity, baby. That’s for-freakin’-everrr, in case you were wondering. Now point me toward the salmon. Fresh, not canned, thank you very much.”
There was a short moment of stunned silence before everyone burst out laughing. In fact, if Greg could cry tears, January was sure he would have as he fell forward on the couch and Heath slapped his back with a guffaw.
January doubled over laughing right along with everyone else.
But Nina? She stood rooted to the spot.
So January wrapped her arm around her newest friend’s waist and chuckled as she pulled her in tight to break the news. “So there’s this thing I meant to mention to you, but with all the moving in, renovations, patients to handle, husband to love madly, daughter to play peek-a-boo with, I totally forgot. My bad. Anyway, this is your assigned familiar. Cute, right? Cranky, but cute.”
“A fucking cat familiar?” she finally said, her shock evident.
January nodded with a grin. “Yep. A fucking cat familiar. Unlike Farley, some familiars prefer their animal form. Fucking Irony, she’s a crazy bitch, huh? Anyway, welcome to the coven, Nina Statleon!”
Galen brought over a wine glass filled with synthetic blood and handed it to Nina, still snickering. He clinked his glass to hers and saluted her. “To your new familiar. But mostly,” he said, looking down at January, his eyes tender and warm, “to us.”
January planted a kiss on his lips, filled with all the love she’d had to hide for so long.
How Nina Got Her Fang Back: Accidental Quickie (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 13) Page 15
