by Mary Hughes
“Why? Why would the rogues do that?”
Dolly frowned. “Disruption, if I had to guess. These aren’t your usual vampires, not the way they’re behaving. They’re anarchists, wanting to undermine the stability of the city. Sow terror.”
“That’s not good. You have to do something.”
“Me? Wrong person, Sugar.” That considering, burning stare was back. “I spread rumors, I don’t shush them. You, on the other hand…”
“No. I can’t. I’m a problem magnet, not a solution. You have to handle it, or Thor…or Julian or one of the other v-guys.”
She clucked. “Sera, I sympathize, I really do. But your mate and the rest of the city’s protectors have dealt with rogues the same way for centuries. This situation is brand new. Unexpected. It needs creative problem-solving. Sugar, I’ve known you since grade school, when you thought fast on your feet. And though you pretend otherwise, I think that imaginative child is still inside. We need that tonight.”
I waved panicked hands at her. “You mean my wild child, but I’m telling you, I can’t. Anything I try to do, Jenny or someone imitates me, and it backfires on them, big time. I won’t be the cause of anyone getting hurt worse in this mess. I can’t let out my wild child.”
“Sure you can. You did, with your mate and your monkey sex. No one got hurt then.”
“But being with Thor’s different. He’s got amazing control, exactly what I need to balance the wildness in me…damn.”
She gave me a smug smile. “Exactly. Fun Sera and Serious Thor together are a good thing. And I think he finally realizes it too, after the monkey sex.”
I winced. “Would you stop with the monkey sex?”
“Will you let your inner bad girl out and go save the day?”
Automatically I shook my head a vehement no. Give my wild child free rein? After the Schleck incident, I thought she’d stay buried forever.
But now…now it was safe, even beneficial to let my creativity shine, because Thor would help me deal. My head-shaking slowed, then stopped as no-no-no resolve into—
“Yes. If you stop saying ‘monkey sex.’ And help Titus. Oh, and while you’re helping him, pat him down for the keys to this cell.”
So I let my inner bad girl out, literally. I executed a jailbreak.
I ran all the way to Settler’s Square, where Thor and the rest were winning handily against the rogue vampires—amid the stunned, white faces of thousands of ordinary humans.
I bent over, panting, trying to get my breath back. As Dolly said, even winning would be losing. My throat hurt, a painful lump of despair.
Except, bent over like that, light-headed, my wild child got a wild, creative idea. I sprang straight.
Up on the stage of the Oom-pa-pah band shell, the bloodiest portion of the vampire fight raged, silhouetted by a big screen where the finalists’ videos would have played. Four of the five finalists—including Frank Titus—sat in front. A fifth, empty chair belonged to Bo Strongwell, no doubt.
Mayor Meier stood gripping both edges of the podium, silent while canned polka music merrily rolled out the barrels. His head was twisted, eyes round on the carnage behind him, where Thor and Bo Strongwell and Julian Emerson, people he knew, sliced heads from bodies and cut hearts from ribcages.
The crowd of frozen, white faces resolved into people I knew, people I cared about. Jenny, Bruno, Granny. Nixie stood with her, all of them staring up at the stage, where vampires sliced and gouged, their plated faces, red eyes, long fangs, and talons in plain sight.
The biggest secret of all—their monstrosity, misleading yet damning—exposed.
I ran into the crowd, toward Granny.
Bo Strongwell, with a particularly vicious strike, sheared through a bald vampire’s neck. Baldy’s head went flying—but his hands shot up and caught it. Plopped head back on neck. Meat and skin started fusing in a CGI-like meld.
Under the glaring lights of the band shell for everyone to see.
A dozen people fainted. The townsfolk would be traumatized—just before they rushed for their shotguns. I despaired.
Then Granny shouted, “Fifty bucks on Strongwell!”
Huh. Not everyone would be traumatized.
“Damn it,” Nixie said as I ran up. “This is not going to go well. We managed to hypnotize a few hundred after the Gravloth fiasco, but this is the entire Corners witnessing vampires. We’re totally screwed.”
“No, we’re not. Just help me get to Thor.”
She threw a frustrated hand toward the stage. “He’s part of the problem.”
“No. He’s the solution. I have an idea.”
“A regular old idea—”
“A weird idea. Just weird enough to work.” I crossed my fingers.
She considered me, then seized my arm and tugged me toward the stage, tiny but strong. “Weird, I like. Julian!”
He appeared in a puff at her side. As we mounted the stairs to the band shell, she told him I had a plan, and he slashed our way through the last of the rogues onstage to Thor’s side. Vampire parts littered the boards, showing that many, many vampires had attacked. Our vampires might lose the real war, but I was proud of them for winning the battle.
As Camille and the rest mopped up rogues, I grabbed Thor and urged him with me behind the podium, nudging the frozen mayor aside.
Grabbing the microphone, I slapped a big grin on my face and forced a jolly, “Woo hoo! April Fools, Meiers Corners!”
Silence, except for the gurgle of the few remaining rogues and the reedy wheedle of recorded accordions.
In front of me were a sea of blank, white faces. This would be a hard sell.
I grabbed my wild child and mentally prepared for a ride in the most berserk rodeo of my life. “You’ve seen the rest of the competition for this year’s April Fools’ Day contest—on video. But at Nieman’s Bar, we do it Bigger and Better! We’re Sexy And Fun, and this is our entry!”
Below me, the frozen horror on white faces began to melt into confusion. People turned to each other, exchanging perplexed glances. I briefly closed my eyes in relieved thanks.
Mayor Meier leaned toward me. “Vat?” he said, meaning what. “Vat your entry is, Sera?” He was second or third generation American, but somehow sported a thick German accent as if he’d not just stepped off the boat, but eaten it. Even in extremes, his jolly gemütlichkeit was intact.
“Not my entry, mayor. Nieman’s Bar. What did you just see?” I deliberately pointed to the worst infraction, where the semi-decapitated vampire staggered around, his bald head still wobbly as his neck reattached.
“The über supernatural horror.” He gulped in true terror. “V-vampires.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to think. But it’s—” I turned to the mic. “—April Fools!”
Comprehension dawned on some of the faces. I followed up, fast, to sell it. “We tricked you into believing the April Fools’ Day contest was being attacked by vampires. Ha-ha! Joke’s on you—on all of you.”
“You got us,” Nixie yelled. She didn’t need a mic to be heard. As a punk rock singer, the woman had asbestos vocal cords and iron lungs.
“The ultimate prank on the whole city,” I said. “And were you fooled?”
“We were!” Nixie shouted. “You totally rocked the fooling.”
The mayor was rapidly blinking, so I pulled one more wild rabbit from the hat. “And who’s the April Fooliest, Sexy And Funniest bar in Meiers Corners? Who’s the real winner?”
“Nieman’s!” Camille raised one bloody fist.
“Ja. Ja!” Mayor Meier, gemütlichkeit restored, grabbed both Thor and me by the wrist, one in each hand, and lifted our hands into the air. “Ve vill vote for Nieman’s Bar for vinner—”
“Wait.” Bo stalked up to the podium, kicking aside parts and groaning vampires. “Just hold on. You’d already picked. Frank and I tied. Anyway, this should be disqualified because it wasn’t an April Fools trick. It was…”
“Real?” Thor hi
ssed off-mic at him, nodding toward the townsfolk below. “Are you really going to blow this for everyone just to win a trophy?”
Bo got a good look at the crowd. At the hopeful, conflicted faces. At the dozen or so fainted folks just coming around. At Nixie and Julian shaking their heads no-no-no.
“Drit.” He spat it like a similar Anglo-Saxon word starting with sh, glaring at Thor, then me, then Thor again. “That’s cheating.”
I smiled sweetly back. “That’s creativity let loose.”
“Zo, ve haff the vinner, ja?”
Everyone cheered. “Nie-man’s. Nie-man’s!” Granny cheered the loudest.
Mayor Meier finally let go of our hands. I handed him the mic and surreptitiously rubbed circulation back into my arm.
Thor’s smile looked half-stunned. “I won. I can’t believe it. I actually won.”
“Technically, we won. But if it makes you feel better—”
“But I never win.” Thor muttered. “He always wins. Bo always wins.”
“Not this year.” I smiled. “Not unless he wants to contradict us and have a full-scale panic on his hands.”
“I never win.” Thor finally lost the glazed look and turned his gaze to me, eyes crinkled with satisfaction and happiness. “Until you.”
That smile made me think all sorts of wild, crazy things. Private things. I took his hand and started across the stage.
Until, as we passed the finalists’ chairs, one of the women rose.
She was a leggy blonde—well, half Meiers Corners was—with curves and detours in all the right places. She put a fluttering hand on Thor’s shoulder
I nearly snapped her arm off, until he stopped and said, “Phillie?”
There was a strange quaver in his voice. This woman meant something to him.
“Thor.” Her voice was breathy. “I misjudged you. You are fun.”
He smiled slowly at her, heavy lidded. “I guess I am.”
Jealousy burned in my chest and throat.
“You were the best I ever had.” She mimed rubbing against him, clearly implying the best sex. Her fingers tripped up his biceps. “Wanna get back together?”
His smile broadened, and I wanted to snap those fingers off—until he grabbed them and gently removed them himself.
“I’m a fun guy, yes. But I’ve also found I like being serious—and having serious control. The sex was good, Phillie, but I have someone else now. And we make love.”
He turned that smile to me, and his gaze was full of warmth.
The jealousy went poof, and I basked in the beauty of his smile, my heart fluttering a bit.
He led me off the stage. I’d just gotten down the last step when the mayor’s secretary, Heidi, stepped into our path and cracked her whip—literally a whip. With her blonde braid and fresh face she looked like Spyri’s title character, but instead of dirndls, this Heidi tended toward leather, studs, and spike-heeled boots she could point at your face—with her foot still in them. “Stop right there,” she snapped.
We stopped. She could neuter a fly with that whip.
I grabbed Thor’s hand for courage.
“Names. For the trophy.” She stuck her whip handle into a holder on her belt and flipped out a notebook and pen.
Thor and I exchanged a glance. He said, “Nieman’s Bar.”
“Your names, for below. The plaque will say Winner: Nieman’s Bar, represented by X and Y. Names. Now.”
She didn’t quite lapse into Ve haff vays of makink you talk, but I’m sure that would’ve been next. Fortunately, Camille stepped into the breach.
“Thorvald Thorsson.” The vampire woman sashayed next to Heidi, arm dropping casually around her shoulders. “And Sera Braun.”
“No,” I said.
“What?” Both Thor and Camille’s heads came up, staring at me.
“Not Sera,” I said, more confident. Sera was my hiding name. My regular, non-hair-brained scheme name. My stodgy plodding planning name. But my wild name, my real name was—
“Call me Serendipity.”
As Bo organized cleanup of the rogue body part “props”, Camille led us back to Nieman’s Bar, trophy held high. Thor and I walked hand in hand. When we got back, she wouldn’t let the two of us work, going so far as to ask Buddy to pour us our own pitcher.
Thor helped me up on a tall stool and we sat, watching Camille put the trophy on a shelf over the long mirror.
He took my hands. “How did you get out of jail?”
“Jailbreak. Titus had the keys, but…” I blushed. “I could’ve done it with couple hairpins and my misspent youth.”
Naturally, just at that moment, Jenny set the pitcher and glasses before us. “Cool. Can you teach me to pick a lock, Sera?”
She’d heard. Old tapes die hard. She’d heard and surely disaster and crushing guilt would follow. I panicked, nearly shouted, “No.”
“N-no?” Her voice was small, her eyes watering.
“Jenny, please.” Hand to breastbone, I waited for the hard thudding of my heart to ebb before I spoke again. “I know I make the bad girl stuff look easy, but first and foremost, before I do anything, I considered who might get hurt—and I never do something that will deliberately hurt other people.”
“Wh-what are you saying, Sera? You don’t want me to be like you?”
“Jenny, you’re a wonderful young woman, and I love you like a sister. I really do.” I exchanged a helpless glance with Thor. He nodded, giving me strength. I took her hands in mine and met her gaze, wondering how to explain, to make her see, coming up empty. In desperation I flung out, “Just…do as I say, not as I do, okay?”
“Oh. Oh, sure!” The sun came out again on her face, and she took the empty tray and bopped away.
“You’ll make a wonderful mother.” Thor’s voice was warm. “I guess it won’t be hard to learn to say I love you.”
I smiled into his eyes. “It’s Jenny. That was too easy. I can’t believe it was that easy.”
“Well, you may have to deal with her imitating you again.” With a return smile, Thor lifted the pitcher and poured two frothy glasses. “But I think it’ll be easier for you now, because you’ve recognized something crucial. Before, you were ashamed of your wild side. Now, I think, you’ve realized the important difference that makes you wild and creative, rather than lawless and destructive—the fact that you care about the welfare of others.”
“You make me sound almost goodie-goodie.”
“Oh, no.” He set down the glasses and took my face between his big, hot hands. “You’re the opposite. Wicked and wanton.” He released my face. “Or at least I hope you’ll be—with me.”
“Oh, yeah. I most certainly will. Because Dolly helped me realize something else. You, Mr. Thorsson, also have another’s welfare in mind. Mine. Even if I edge past wild and creative into lawless and destructive, you’ll be my mooring, my limiter. You’ll help me release that part of myself, safely.”
“Now you’re making me sound like an anchor.”
“Only in the best sense.” It was my turn to take his face in my hands. “The keeping safe sense. We don’t need each other—”
“I need you.” His heart was in his eyes.
“Not to be whole. We’re whole people on our own. But with each other, we’re even better. You help me to be a better person. And hopefully, I help you to be better, too.”
He nodded. “You helped me see something I never had. Who I am—not who I wanted to be, or who others wanted me to be, but who I truly am—is better than I realized. The part of me that I’d considered a liability is really an asset. My self-control is good.”
“Not to mention wicked sexy.”
“Sexy, hmm?” He arched one blond brow. “How sexy?”
“Well…what you said to that woman, Phillie. That what you and I do is making love. How sincere were you?”
“Completely.” His mouth still curved, but his gaze was hotly serious now.
“Then how would you like to try the wildest
, scariest experiment of all?”
“What’s that?”
“Dating.”
“You and me? Dating, hmm.”
I gazed into his stormy blue eyes, hoping for a taste of forever with him. “I know we’re already mates, but I’d like to try for more.”
“More?”
“Yes. Let’s see if we April Fools can fall in love.”
Cast of Characters
The Braun Family
Serendipity Braun—Despite her name, Sera believes there is no such thing as luck. Average height, light brown hair, loves to be wild and creative but doesn’t want to suck anyone into her schemes lest they get hurt.
Bruno Braun—Sera’s brother. A shaggy brown bear of a guy, runs MC survivalist store, Armageddon Three. A big guy dripping hair and conspiracy theories, ex-SEAL, has tattoos braided in with all the hair, and is the sweetest guy anyone would ever want to meet.
Brunhilde “Granny” Butt—moonlights as an exotic dancer at Nieman’s Bar, if stripping out of a girdle and orthopedic hose counts as exotic.
Meiers Corners Vampire Households
Nieman’s Bar Household
Camille Lebeau—master vampire. Green eyes, black hair, a cross between Elvira and Cleopatra in leather lederhosen hotpants.
Thorvald Thorsson—Six-three of Viking vampire power, his body wrapped in jeans, a sleeveless vest, and weapons, and his intelligence wrapped in quiet observation. Originally Bo Strongwell’s first lieutenant, now Camille’s.
Rebecca “of Sunnybrook Farm” —Looks like the kind of woman who wrestles bulls for fun. Wears bib overalls with no shirt and likes to chew on long stalks of grass. Was Julian Emerson’s second lieutenant, now Camille’s.
Buddy “The Bartender” Butler—a silver-haired gent, originally part of the Strongwell household. Now Camille's “donor”, wink-wink, nudge-nudge.
Strongwell Household
Bo Strongwell—master vampire, and master of the city. Six-four of handsome Viking warrior.
Elena O’Rourke Strongwell—Meiers Corners’s top detective. Five-nine of Irish-Latina determination, intelligence, and grit.
