Nina’s lips formed a thin line, but upon Wanda’s order, she leaned back in her chair, letting her ankle rest on her knee.
Watching their interaction, one that had a certain rhythm to it, Sam was capable of only one assessment. It was damn obvious these women were experienced in this sort of thing. So had it just been luck that he’d landed here? Or was it a calculated stop, drop, and roll on the doorstep of three women who just happened to claim they were supernatural? His usually sharp-as-a-tack mind couldn’t process much further than the scenario before him.
Maybe he was being punked by his new poker buddies? How did he know these women were telling the truth about all these accidents they lay claim to? Seriously, who thinks a werewolf looks like a dog, and did vampires really have dental plans?
If you listened to Wanda and Marty and the tales they’d told him about their accidental events, apparently, they did.
How did he know they could really help him? Sure, they claimed they knew what was happening to him and that they could assist, but how did he know he had what they had?
How did he know they had anything to begin with? Maybe what they’d shown him had David Copperfield properties to it, and he’d fallen for it because, let’s face it, he’d lost a day of his life—somewhere—somehow in a bizarre comatose-like state. He’d have called drunk for all the ensuing craziness, but the fuck of it was, he hadn’t had a drop to drink the night this had all begun. He never drank on the job …
Maybe he was just tired, and all that snarling, shedding, and showing of the fangs they’d given him as proof was his eyes playing tricks on him.
Or …
Sam, Sam, Sam. Don’t be an asshat. Did you not bear witness to what that Marty called the shift? You’ll be picking fur out of your teeth for days for all the openmouthed horror you displayed.
Okay. There was no denying what he’d seen, whether he was recovering from a bender he couldn’t remember having or not. This was real. Marty had turned into a werewolf right in front of him, and Wanda had lifted not one, but both desks with a mere two fingers from each hand.
He’d seen. Fuck. It had been like that crazy show his ex-girlfriend used to watch. Super-something with men she’d called lickable that were always fighting, not only with each other, but with Lucifer and his demons because they were vessels. Shit. Was he a vessel, too?
Damn. It would suck to be a vessel in a dress and these big hoopy earrings.
How could this all really be true?
“Mr. McLean? Are you still with us?” Wanda asked, her worried glance to the other two women making him reposition his slouching frame.
Be a man, Sam. All man. “Sam. Please, call me Sam.” Or Vampire. Mr. Vampire.
Wanda perched on the edge of her desk, crossing her slender legs. Her black heels clacked together in an abomination of sound so sharply distinct, Sam gripped the arms of the office chair they’d given him to sit in upon his awakening. It was all he could do to keep from screaming at Wanda to shut up. Everything was so loud and abrasive. “Okay, so here we go, Sam. Obviously, you realize you’ve got a … problem.”
As problems went—this probably would classify. He was in the office of women who declared they were paranormal crisis counselors and ran an organization titled OOPS. He had no idea how he’d gotten here. Add to that, he had on a dress, matching heels, nylons, fake eyelashes, and a blond wig. Definitely problematic.
Sam watched Wanda’s pink-glossed lips nibble at the end of her pencil while she waited for him to answer. “Yes. I think these”—he lifted his upper lip, taking care not to poke himself with the Lee Press Ons still stuck to his fingertips, and revealed the fangs the women had shown him he was now the proud owner of when they’d made him run his fingers along his newly elongated teeth—“are a definite problem. There’s also the small, but quite possibly deadly issue of my urge to eat anyone who has blood pumping through their veins—which I’ll be honest enough to tell you, I’m really fighting. I’m guessing ‘I’m a vampire’ won’t be a solid defense in a court of law where murder’s concerned.”
Insanity be thy name.
“I’d like to attribute this to the world’s worst hangover, but as far back as the night this happened, I can’t remember even having the chance to grab a beer.”
Marty’s hand shot up, her bracelet-covered wrist shiny under the brash ceiling light. “Hold on. You were rambling just a little when we dragged you in here. Let’s hear what happened once more for posterity so Nina’s filled in?”
Sam’s mind raced back to two days ago when he’d been talked into going to his new friend Joel’s Halloween costume party. Dumbest ass thing he’d done in a long damn time. But Joel had convinced him he needed to mingle more instead of burying himself in his work. “I think, to my best recollection, it happened at my friend Joel’s costume party—”
“So you don’t always dress like Marilyn Monroe OD’d on steroids?” Nina queried with a wave of her hand at his torn dress and cracked heels.
Sam pushed a blond curl from the wig he was still wearing out of his eyes. Eyes that had taken one look in that hand mirror these bunch of women had given him when they’d spouted their paranormal pitch, and had nearly fallen out of his head.
And it wasn’t due to the fact that he didn’t need his glasses to see his reflection clearly anymore, but more because he had absolutely no reflection, period. “Um, no. It was a costume party. You know, Halloween? I thought it would be funny if—”
Nina cut him off again with a flap upward of her hands. “No judgment here, dude. You can be whatever you want to be. If you dig dressing up like a chick and bein’ swishy, you won’t hear me point out that the dress you’re wearing is a shitty color for your stupid color aura—or whatever. But I’m crushin’ on your earrings.”
“They were a total steal at some place in the mall called Claire’s. And hold on,” he protested. “Marty said it was a good color for me … and it was a costume party …” Hey now. He stopped short, clamping his piehole shut.
“Nina!” Wanda chastised, her frown disapproving. “I’m sorry, Sam, but if you choose to work with us, she’s a part of the deal. Forget your color wheel and your dress and those ghastly heels and try to focus on the fact that Nina mostly knows what she’s talking about. She is the vampire in our equation. Full vampire, as opposed to my only half.”
Right. Wanda was halfsie, as she’d jokingly referred to herself on a snort Marty had mirrored. That he could remember any of this after waking from what felt like a coma continued to amaze him.
Wanda rustled on the desk, regaining Sam’s attention. “Please, continue, Sam.”
He scratched at his legs, ripping another hole in his pathetically shredded pantyhose. “Anyway, I went to this costume party where I met a woman dressed as a vampire and …” And she’d been hot as Hades. Maybe hotter.
They’d made sizzling eye contact over the apple-bobbing barrel and the rest was as clichéd as it got. He wasn’t one for one-night stands as a rule, but this woman, mysterious, round in all the right places, and with a pair of eyes so oddly tinted violet, he couldn’t help but pursue her.
But he wasn’t going to share those thoughts with a roomful of females who’d made it clear they could take on an entire football team while they polished their nails.
“Oh, pick me! I know what happened next,” Nina teased, maniacal amusement glinting in her coal black eyes. “Your man parts thought getting your wonk on with a complete fucking stranger at a costume party was a good idea. The two of you left the party, went to some skanky hotel, she gets ya all juiced, and bam, you wake up Dracula. And they say the male gender is the superior one.”
“Hey,” Sam scoffed, affronted. “It wasn’t a skanky hotel.” A weak defense but a defense nonetheless. It hadn’t been a skanky hotel—it had been a perfectly fine Days Inn, even if the rest of what Nina had retold was mostly the truth. And he’d paid for the taxi.
“It wasn’t a skanky hotel,” Nina mimicked his protest wi
th a laugh and a roll of her neck. “Is that the best ya got, Romeo?”
“Ohhhh, listen to the pot calling the kettle black, Nina Statleon!” Marty accused. “Sit down and still your trapdoor, girlie, before we have to remind you of your premarital ‘Oh, look. An unsuspecting man who needs an ego shredding with his one-night stand’ days.”
Nina’s eyes narrowed at Marty. “You wanna try vampire versus werewolf and see if I don’t take you out?”
“You wanna lose those elephant tusks, Fang?” Marty countered, hands on her svelte hips.
Wanda was up in a shot, moving to the middle of the room, glancing Sam’s way with a look of apology, her jaw tight. “Do you see why I’ve put them in separate corners, Sam? I swear on all that’s holy, it’s like crack-induced kindergarten. Nina, Marty—do not make me! Never you mind about one-night stands and skanky hotels. That’s Sam’s business! Now shut it!”
Sam’s teeth tried to grind together again while he fought to remember he was, first and foremost, a gentleman—rare one-night stands aside. “Yes. My cave-dweller instincts got the best of me. I hang my head in shame. I’m an utter and total pig. The moment I find some spare time, I’ll make it my mission to put that on a billboard—all big and readable. But because I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy, I really think addressing my new teeth, my lack of lung function, the fact that I can not only hear but almost see noises, which means I can hear Marty’s blood course through her veins from clear over here, presents a bigger problem than my cad status or even my red dress.”
Nina leaned forward in her chair, smiling at him—the tension between the two women as though it had never been. “Hah. Dude’s got a sense of humor. Good thing, too. You’re gonna need it, living as a vampire.”
Sam yanked off his wig, pushing his own matted hair back. “So let me be clear on this just one more time. There’s no going back, right?” Marty had been, at his request, straight up about that much when they’d explained his current situation. He wanted to deny what was happening to him, but there was no denying he wasn’t breathing, and the hand he’d placed on his fake gel-breasted chest where his heart should be wasn’t feeling a steady rhythm.
Wanda hesitated momentarily, clearly measuring her words. “We wouldn’t rule anything out at this point, Sam. Not anything. We’ve seen some pretty crazy things since this happened to us, but more than likely, you’re a vampire for good. You’ll eventually be able to fly, read minds, kick some serious butt without much effort. Almost everything you’ve ever heard, read, seen in a movie pretty much applies to you now.”
“Except for the sparkling thing.” Why he couldn’t let that go seemed ludicrous, but of all the things he’d have to incur if what Wanda said was true, sparkling had to be the worst of all offenses.
“Yeah,” Nina’s response was dry. “Except for the sparkly stuff, Twilight. That’s the least of the shit you have to worry about.”
“So you remember absolutely nothing after that night in the hotel? Maybe this vampire lady’s name?” Marty inquired.
If he wasn’t a candidate for induction into the Shithead’s Hall of Fame after admitting he’d copped to a one-night stand, he was well on his way for what he was about to confess now. Own it, McLean. You were on a strictly don’t-ask, don’t-tell basis. Straightening his back, Sam looked them each square in the eye. “We didn’t exchange names.” There. The lack-of-name-sharing bomb dropped.
Kaboom.
However, Wanda, whether purposefully or not, granted him a reprieve. “So we have no idea not only who accidentally turned you but who was responsible for dumping you on our doorstep like you were a newborn on the steps of St. Mary’s.”
Nina rolled her tongue in her cheek, her eyes narrowing to black slits. “We also have no idea if this woman Sammy wanted to slam was really a vampire. He can’t remember shit after meeting her. How do we know what really happened to him from the time they went to the hotel until he woke up? And BTW, who says this was a fucking accident, Wanda? First, don’t you think it’s suspicious that he was dropped here? With us? And second, I gotta tell ya, most of us, the decent vamps anyway, would own biting someone by accident just like Greg did with me. This shit ain’t sittin’ right with me.”
Both Wanda and Marty gasped in unified horror. Wanda was the first to speak. “You think someone did this purposely, Nina?”
Sam held up a hand to stop that idea in its tracks. “Wait. I do remember this much. I don’t know where I was or when it happened during that night, but I remember the words, ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.’”
Yes. He remembered that much. The pleading tone to mystery woman’s voice when she’d whispered those words.
Nina scowled. “We’d better hope the fuck so. Otherwise, it means we have some rogue vamp running around, biting innocents like pretty boy here.”
Now Sam was astonished. In fact, he’d gasp—if he still could. “You mean you vampires really do this on purpose?” That wasn’t what Marty and Wanda had said. Quite the contrary. After they’d told him about their no-humans-harmed policy, and that he needed blood in order to survive, he’d had visions of himself stalking the surrounding farms around his cabin upstate so he could suck the life out of some poor herd of sheep in the name of survival. But it didn’t entail sinking his teeth into humans.
Jesus.
“No. Draining humans, even just drinking from them, is a big no-no in my vampire circle,” Nina informed him. “That’s rule number one in Vampire-landia. We buy blood from an approved donor. So all those crazy urges you’re having while you watch Marty’s pulse beat in her neck end now, bloodsucker. Or I’ll kick the living shit out of you. You have to learn to keep that shit to yourself. And if anyone ever drains Marty dry, it damned well better be me for all the bullshit discount designer mall shopping she makes me do with her.” She snickered.
Instantly, Sam’s eyes fell to the hem of his dress in guilt. Yeah. The blonde’s neck was looking better than any beer he’d ever had. “No people bloodsucking,” he repeated, fighting a shudder of horror mingled with an unbidden sick delight at the thought. “Got it.”
“Because I will stop you, but not before I yank your sacs off,” Nina warned, growling at him. “With my teeth.”
A wave of dizziness washed over him once more. The same wave he’d experienced shortly after he’d woken up at OOPS. He gripped the arms of the chair again to keep from wobbling.
Marty and Wanda were at his side in a blink. Marty tipped his head back, gazing into his face, the scent of her perfume assaulting Sam’s nose. “He needs to feed, Nina, before he passes out.”
Feed. Such an odd word.
Nina slapped her hands against her thighs, rising to come toward him. She picked up the basket from his lap and dug around in it, pulling out the packet labeled BLOOD. “Marty’s right—you look like shit. That’ll happen if you don’t feed a lot in the beginning stages of your turn. So, seeing as you’re all man, I guess we don’t have to deal with a bunch of snot while we hand you a buttload of tissues and lie to you about how everything’s gonna be all right. Let’s move on to the next dealio at hand, Sammy. The rest of the minutia can wait till your head’s clearer.”
Becoming woozier by the second, Sam’s head fell back on his shoulders with a boneless flop. He stared up at Nina, who took hold of his chin and shook it, knocking one of his bargain-basement hoop earrings to the floor. “Feed?” he managed.
Nina’s eyebrow rose; her lips flirted with a mocking smile. “Yeah. Like drink blood. It does a vampire good. And by the looks of you, you’re fading fast. So let’s get you juiced before we do anything else.”
Sam cringed, making a weak attempt at pulling from Nina’s grasp. He fought to find clarity in his next words. “I think this might be where I have to get off the merry-go-round. I know I was all about taking this like a man, and you have to admit, I haven’t shed a single tear, nor have I retreated to the corner and assumed the rocking position. But I gotta draw the line at bloo
d.” No blood. Whether his stomach was doing handstands filled with anticipation about it or not. No. Blood.
That couldn’t be the answer to his sudden weakness.
Nina used her teeth to rip open the package. “Don’t go pantywaist on me now, pal. You have to feed or risk the chance of being expunged. You don’t want that, do you?”
His hand gripped Nina’s wrist. “Who says I’ll be ex … ex-whatever?” He slurred the last word, unable to make his tongue cooperate.
Nina squeezed harder, making his lips pucker like a goldfish. “Expunged, Sammy, and Nina the Vampire says so.”
“You’re Nina?” a voice from behind them said, warbled and distorted to Sam’s ears, but clearly laced with astonishment.
Nina’s head popped up, her eyes scanning the door just behind his chair with suspicion. “Maybe. Who are you?”
A woman rushed in, her scent sitting in Sam’s nose when she stopped short in front of them. The heat of her body swirled around him, enveloping his every sense while his vision cleared enough for him to momentarily focus on the woman.
A redhead with creamy skin and full red lips, her eyes were gray blue, her bangs partially covering the thick fringe of dark lashes around them. She wore a white shawl, casually slung over her shoulders. Her rounded hips were encased in a sleek, gray skirt that fell to just above her knees, knees that were attached to shapely legs.
The click from the heels of her suede boots was brisk as she paced and asked, “So you’re really Nina? The Nina. I can’t believe it’s really you.”
Sam caught the hesitation in this woman’s voice, heard a faint glimmer of worry, maybe even fear, but he was, at this point in his vampiric state, rendered immobile. All he could do was observe in a limp slump from his chair. For a man like him, it was infuriating.
Accidentally Dead, Again Page 2
