Grabbing her hand, Greg squeezed it. “Nope. It won’t.”
Svetlanna switched topics abruptly, which was her way whenever they talked about his future being in such dire straights. “Her job is in jeopardy. We could give her one at Fango, you know. I’m sure I could find something for her to do. Obviously she’s fiercely independent, and it would probably make her feel even more like a charity case if we offered, but she won’t just accept our help. Maybe, in her mind anyway, she’d feel like she was earning it instead of simply being handed what she’s due as a part of the clan.”
Greg snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Though you realize, it is her right as one of us to live and benefit from the clan, whether you like it or not.”
His lips thinned. Oh, he realized. “Does Nina really seem like the kind of girl who’d thrive at a place that designs clothes for a living, Mother? I don’t want to sound like a total jerk, but Nina doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who’s into fashion…” He let his words trail off. The hell he’d let Nina come in and disrupt the only thing that had kept his mother happy since the twentieth century, with her foul mouth and hot temper.
Svetlanna leaned her hip against the mahogany desk where Greg handled her investments from the profits of Fango. “She could learn.”
Greg threaded his fingers through his hair, forcing the impatience he felt with his mother out of his words. “Nina doesn’t want to be a vampire, Mother. I’d have to err on the side of caution when I say I doubt she’s going to want to work for a bunch of them on a clothing line she wouldn’t buy as long as Wal-Mart exists.”
Svetlanna arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s just something to think about.”
He pushed away from his desk and strode toward the stairwell. “Stop thinking so much. I’ll handle Nina. Now let’s get some sleep,” he suggested before taking the stairs two at a time to his bedroom.
Greg stripped his clothes off and slid between the sheets of his big bed without looking back at the mess strewn on the floor. It had been one helluva day. The rise of the sun sent out a siren’s song for all good vampires to rest, rejuvenate. His eyes were heavy, but his head spun with the day’s events. He’d told his mother he’d handle Nina.
Strangely, he had the odd premonition that “handling Nina” might not be such a bad thing.
If he had a roll of duct tape anyway.
CHAPTER
5
Nina woke as if she’d slept the sleep of the dead. She cringed, gathering the sheets around her. Technically, that was true. She had because she was. Dead.
Dead, dead, dead. Doornail dead.
Waking up as a vampire had a whole different meaning, and it wasn’t the “omigod, I’m a vampire” deal. Daily she’d struggled to open her eyes. She was a champion palm smacker when it came to the snooze button on her alarm clock. No morning went by without swatting at it at least five times before contemplating putting her feet on the ground to trudge into the bathroom.
Not so much today. Today her eyes popped open like a pair of Pop-Tarts in a toaster, fully alert and aware of everything around her. Each color was again vibrant and new. Each texture felt like she had a thousand fingertips instead of just ten.
This new awareness brought with it the realization that it was dark out and she’d missed another day of work. Missing another day of work reminded her it was now Thursday.
Lou would be waiting for Nina to join her for their weekly pot roast and bottled gravy feast. She made pot roast and red-skinned potatoes every Thursday, and Nina was expected to show up at seven sharp.
Lou accepted absolutely no excuses unless you were calling to cancel from the morgue.
Her grandmother was, in a word, immovable.
The light of her answering machine caught her eye. It blinked furiously with a red, consistently paced rhythm. She fell back on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face, inching her fingers over her nightstand to find the square blue button and pressed Play.
“Nina? This is Beliiinda. You know, from Dr. Berkenstein’s. The place you show up at occasionally?” Her annoying, breathy voice filled the air with a squeak.
Nina shoved her cotton pillowcase into her mouth to keep from screaming—she didn’t need a degree in rocket science to know why Belinda had gleefully placed this particular call, and she didn’t need the gift of clairvoyance to know what her message would contain.
“You’re fired.” Her voice hitched, probably on a maniacal giggle, and then she cleared her throat. “Seeing as you weren’t here long enough to even fill up a pencil holder with personal items, there’s no need for you to make a personal appearance, because there’s nothing to collect. So…um, good luck.”
The dial tone greeted Nina’s sensitive ears, buzzing harshly with an echo in her small bedroom. She reached over and ripped the answering machine from the tabletop with a hard yank, throwing it across the room, and letting it hit the wall, then clatter to the floor, leaving behind a big, honkin’ hole. She looked at her hand with amazement as if it belonged to someone else.
Whoa.
Her new vampire strength was matched only by her fury when she screeched, “Biiiiiiiiiiiitchhhhhhh!”
Christ on a cracker. What the frig was she going to do without a job? Not so silently Nina cursed Vlad the Impaler as she flung her legs over the edge of the bed and stomped into the bathroom to prepare for Lou’s. Her eyes instantly sought the cracked mirror, blissfully relieved that these new chops of hers seemed to be appeased for the moment. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much else either. Her image remained blurred around the edges and distorted in the middle. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror.
Thank God Marty had taught her how to apply lipstick when she was sans a compact. She’d need at least that much to keep Lou from noticing how pale she was. Oh, she’d sunk so low as to be grateful that Marty’s cosmetic advice was working in her favor.
Whipping back the shower curtain, Nina flipped the taps with the snap of her wrist and prayed tonight she’d at least have lukewarm water. Upon entry to the shower, it would seem the water temp didn’t really matter—she couldn’t much feel it anyway. How odd that some sensations were downright making her jump out of her skin, magnified to epic proportions, and others left her indifferent. The almost below-freezing temperatures when Greg had flown her home last night hadn’t troubled her in the least. Yet last night, the press of his rockin’ hard body had been so exaggerated, so defined, she could almost still feel the heat of it now.
And feeling what she’d felt last night, experiencing what she’d experienced, left her jobless today.
Throughout her shower, and right up until she tied the laces of her sneakers, Nina raged to herself about the total glee Belinda had taken in firing her. Then when she wasn’t satisfied to rant at no one, she railed at poor Larry. Larry, who once again was tempting her like Eve tempted Adam.
Her stomach responded.
How in the hell was she going to feed tonight? There was no chance in Hades she was going back to Greg’s house. No matter how down his mother was with her.
Nuh-uh.
Svetlanna seemed like a nice lady—even if it might all be some act to keep Nina coming back so she could brainwash her. It still wasn’t her fault her son was a fuckwit.
You don’t either think he’s a fuckwit, Nina. Yeah, this is your conscience calling, and you think Wing Man is daaaa-reeammy. Not just hot, but hawt. So knock it off.
Yes, that was true. He was hawt.
Hawt and a fuckwit. Never the twain shall meet.
He wanted to make her join his clan and be a part of some plot to take over the world—which meant that while he was indeed smokin’, he was some kind of maniacal nut.
Maniacal nuts beat sexy to the point of ridiculous vampires every time.
Threading her fingers through her hair, Nina pulled it back into a ponytail, wrapping an elastic band around the thick base to secure it. She’d have to think about feeding and hot bloodsuckers later. Ri
ght now Lou waited, and she wasn’t about to have to explain to her why she was late.
Blood-fest 2008 would just have to wait. If she stopped to think too long on how she was going to find blood of all things, she’d be fucked.
Grabbing her purse, Nina yanked open her door.
Out of nowhere, Greg appeared. Her stomach did that nervous jump, and her skin tingled when she took in his snug black jeans and beige pullover sweater. The buttery leather of his jacket made the tone of his skin seem almost ruddy instead of quite so pale. “Ding-dong. Plasma calling,” he joked with a good-humored tone and that luscious grin that this time reached his eyes.
Nina flipped him the bird and pushed her way past him, seething. No way was he talking her into being one of his crazy minions.
He positioned himself alongside her and mimicked her pace, the muscles of his thighs bunching together as he walked beside her. “Go the fuck away already. Jesus, what is it with you? I don’t need your help, and I have somewhere to be.” And when you stand this close to me, I want to tear off all your clothes and ride you like the fine stallion you are—which leaves me wanting to sleep with the ememy. Christ, couldn’t he see that?
Shit, could he?
His smile was amicable, yet reserved. “Cool, where’re we going?”
Tugging on the tip of her ponytail, Nina curled the ends of her hair around her fingers in a nervous gesture. Now she was nervous? Over him? Like some stupid girrrrrl? How ludicrous. There was nothing to be nervous over. She’d had a hunky guy or two in her life, and just because he was the hawtest yet, didn’t mean he was allowed to make her fucking nervous. Oh, God. “We’re not going anywhere. I’m going somewhere. You’re going back to wherever vampires go when they wake up at night.”
“But I have something for you,” Greg enticed, holding up the packet of blood under the loose, swaying bulb on the ceiling. He offered it to her like he was giving her the friggin’ Hope Diamond. All smiles and mentally patting himself on the back.
Nina swatted at the package with fast hands, pulling the edge of his jacket over it to shelter it from view. “Are you crazy? Put that shit away! I don’t need any more trouble than I already have, thanks to you. People talk in this neighborhood. I think it’s obvious I don’t live in some swanky castle like you. Everyone knows everyone else’s biz here, and if they see you with that, they’ll hang my Kentucky fried carcass from a traffic light.”
His brow furrowed, creating a line on his forehead, and he clucked his tongue. “But it’s feeding time. We’ve talked about this until I’m blue in the face, Nina. You have to feed.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and massaged it, pushing the strands of dark hair that escaped her ponytail out of her face. “You don’t get blue in the face and, whatever. Look, I don’t need you skulking around reminding me I’m a vampire and that I need to feed. I don’t want to be a vampire, and I don’t want to feed, and if I don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’ll be late to Lou’s. Now scurry on back to the bat cave and let me be.”
The slosh of the bag was audible as Greg tucked it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. When it settled against his chest, Nina smothered a groan, licking her dry lips. God, she wanted to tear it from his jacket pocket, pop a straw in it like it was a Capri Sun, and slurp every last ounce, then lick the bag clean. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she picked up her brisk pace while heading down the stairs.
Greg was undaunted. He kept pace with her, opening the door cordially when they hit the bottom floor. “After you.”
“Did you put your hearing aid in today? I mean, you are really old, if the crazy shit you made up in your mind is really true. I said go away.”
“I figure, seeing as this is all my fault, I have to make amends. What better way to do that than to bring you blood? Call it the equivalent of a human courting. I’m just not wooing you with daffodils.”
“I don’t like daffodils.”
“You, Miss Opinionated, don’t like anything, but I’m overlooking that grave, disturbing character flaw and trying to do what’s right.”
“I don’t need your pity or your blood, and I like things just fine. I just don’t like you. Now, after I’m done at Lou’s I’m going to the library or the bookstore, wherever I have to go, and researching this vampire stuff. I don’t think I believe you when you say I can’t be turned back. In fact, I’d go so far as to call you a bullshit artist, because Wikipedia says you weirdoes like to go forth and multiply by biting people.”
“Wikipedia—”
Her palm flicked upward with a sharp snap of her wrist. “I know. They’re full of shit. Lemme tell ya a little something. They’re not so far off the mark, because nearly every fact they list has turned out to be a little too close to the truth. I can live forever if I avoid stakes to the heart that paralyze me while someone chops my head off, etcetera. I do have to drink blood to survive. The sun does burn my skin like some big, never-ending barbeque. So spare me the crap about the misinformed.”
“So who’s Lou?” The suspicion in his tone stuck to her ears, striking an odd chord of sensitivity in them.
She sensed his deep curiosity. Knew he wondered if Lou was a man. How fucked up that she could suddenly read emotions she’d never even had a hint about before. “No one you need to concern yourself with. She doesn’t want to be a vampire either—”
“She?”
A quick glance at him told her Greg was genuinely curious. She didn’t know why she knew that, she just did. Much the way she knew her name or what her favorite color was. “She’s my grandmother. I call her Lou, and she’s very religious. You showing up at her door in all your hellfire will have her knitting you a garlic scarf and throwing Holy Water like confetti. Now go home to Castlevania and get off my back.” Had she paid more attention, she’d have realized he’d hassled her to death for the six blocks it took to get to Lou’s. Six blocks that didn’t seem nearly as long or as far or even as cold as they had, say a week ago. Shit.
Sprinting up the steps, Nina felt his presence at her back, like one feels Macy’s one-day-sale-hungry women nipping at her heels. She was just about to shoo him away for the umpteenth time, when Lou flung open her door.
The smell of pot roast seeped out into the night air, making Nina momentarily gag. She covered her mouth and hacked a dry heave into it, hoping it would sound like a cough to Lou.
Lou pulled her hands from her red and purple flowered housecoat, cupping Nina’s face with affection. The pink rollers on her head accentuated the silver gray of her hair. Stray strands of it framed her face in frizzy waves. Her wrinkled features lifted upward in a gummy smile as her gnarled hand pinched Nina’s cheek. Nina gripped Lou’s wrist and squeezed it back. She forgot all about Greg, and for the first time in several days felt a small amount of comfort from her grandmother’s touch.
“It’s good to see you, Lou. How are you?”
Lou spied Greg hovering behind Nina, and a grin split her face from ear to ear. Her husky cross between Maude and Darth Vader’s voices was music to Nina’s ears. “I’m fine. It looks like you’re fine, too. You brought your beau? When did this happen, missy? Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, it’s about damn time it did. And I don’t have my teeth in. Damn it, Nina, you have to tell me when you’re bringing guests. You never bring anyone, and the one time I don’t have my teeth in—”
Oh. God. No. “No, Lou. It’s not like tha—”
Greg swung around to Nina’s left, holding the screen door open with his shoulder, and held out his hand, offering it to Lou. “I’m Greg. Greg Statleon. Nina’s told me a lot about you. I’m glad we’re finally able to meet.”
Lou preened, taking Greg’s hand and pulling him into the house in a hug. The screen door slammed into Nina’s side with a rusty creak. Lou’s smile fairly glowed, and she hugged Greg again, thumping him on the back.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Puuuleease. She may as well just forget it. He was going to charm the open-toed slippers and ankle-length socks ri
ght off Lou’s feet, just the way he had Wanda and Marty. If Lou was anything, she was desperate to see Nina married off, and if she thought there was even the smallest of chances, just a minute possibility that Greg was her beau, there’d be no stopping her until the wedding invitations were engraved in stone and Nina was dressed in some fucked-up version of the dress Princess Di wore.
Nina braced herself against the screen door, hoping to prepare herself for the hurricane that was her grandmother Lou.
“Come in here, Nina. For Christ’s sake, it’s cold out there, child!” Lou berated her from inside the door. “Come tell me all about your nice young man.” The theme song of Match Game played in the background. Her grandmother loved her game shows.
If she could still die, she’d choose this very moment to end it all.
“Nina! Get your hide in here, girl. I said it’s cold.”
As she stepped over the threshold, her feet turned to cement.
How could she have forgotten?
Lou’s was like a tour through Crucifix World with a spontaneous stop in Jesus Country.
How could she have forgotten how many crucifixes her grandmother had? It was a long running joke between the two of them. Lou collected them at flea markets, discount stores, the Dollar Store—friggin’ Wal-Mart. She had one in every shape, color, and variation. Statuettes of the Virgin Mary sat in neat rows on the mantel, other versions were on each of her end tables, displayed neatly on doilies Lou had crocheted herself. A picture of Christ hung above the fireplace in a thick, tarnished gold frame flanked by a cross on either side.
A groan slipped from her lips as Nina fought to move her feet, but her eyes burned, her hands shook, and her skin crawled. She said a silent prayer for respite, but the flaming ache was sticking around.
So much for all those years in catechism.
Greg slipped in front of her, blocking her view and pulling at her arms until they wrapped around his waist. He squeezed her hands, hands that shook from the effort it took to continue standing. His broad, leather-clad back sheltered her eyes, tearing them away from the Virgin Marys who taunted her with religious glee from Lou’s mantel. “Mind over matter,” he muttered. As if that would be the cure-all. Just think it away.
Accidentally Dead Page 9
