by Molly Harper
“The spectacle . . . that was witnessed by no one!”
“I witnessed it!” he roared, swinging at me. I dropped under the swing but popped back up and gave him a sound uppercut to his stomach. He wheezed a bit but shoved me aside, still venting his frustrated rage. “Do you know what it’s like, knowing that I’ve been beaten by a neophyte? By some suburban soccer mom who drives a minivan?”
“Why does everybody assume I’m a soccer mom? My son has very limited foot-eye coordination!” I exclaimed.
I head-butted him right in the hollow of his throat, making it hard for him to talk for the next few seconds. Then I clapped my hands over his ears, palms cupped. He dropped to his knees while I nursed my aching ribs.
“OK, now it’s a little more personal.” He groaned, his voice froggish and hoarse. “Look, if this is about my killing him, I did you a favor.”
Behind us, I heard the clomping of multiple boots on the ground. Jane and her miniature army had arrived, moving stealthily in formation. Jane did not look pleased with me.
“Apparently, we need to go over the importance of following instructions,” Jane said as the UERT guys surrounded Bob, stakes drawn. “Did you learn nothing from my tales of parking-lot fisticuffs gone wrong?”
“He was getting away,” I said, shrugging.
Jane glared at Finn. He threw up his hands. “I have a problem childe.”
Dick was standing behind Jane, smirking, but said nothing.
“Now,” Jane said, clearing her throat and nudging Bob with her boot. “I believe you were doing your bad-guy murder-confession thing? Please continue so we know exactly what to charge you with.”
“Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it was trying to kill you?” Bob seethed at me. “You always had someone around you. If it wasn’t one of the damn Council leaders, it was some other vampire or that shifter or your human friends. It was hard enough trying to get you alone. And then, when I finally do, you pull that rake-in-the-face bullshit on me. That’s just not sporting. Honestly, a little decorum.”
“Yes, how rude of me to defend myself from your attempted murder,” I deadpanned.
“I couldn’t figure out why you gave me so much trouble. Normally, I just go in for the kill, easy-peasy, in and out. I’m not used to having to fight so hard. I lull my victims into a false sense of security, make them feel like they’re sliding into a warm bath with Mum’s pot roast in their bellies. They’re so relaxed they barely even feel it when I kill them. But you, I couldn’t get a fix on you.”
“Yeah, well, my power trumps your power, so suck it.”
I did feel a little less proud of my above-average fighting skills now, though, knowing that I’d basically taken out Bob’s main method of offense.
Bob huffed. “Les Stratton wasn’t going to stop at me. When we met up the night of your school carnival, after our little tussle in the yard, he was supposed to make the final payment of what he owed me. He got pissed when I didn’t get you on the first try and said he was going to offer the contract to someone else. He would have kept hiring people until he got the result he wanted. Bastard said he wouldn’t pay, though our contract clearly stated that he owed me the money even without proof of death,” he said. “He said he was going to need the money to hire someone else, since I had trouble closing the deal. It was an insult to my integrity as a professional.”
“So instead of killing me, you killed the guy who hurt your feelings and had me framed for his murder,” I muttered. “Kind of a dick move.”
“And you dominated my NEV meetings with your childish weeping just so you could pump us for information about your target, also a dick move,” Jane said, shaking her head.
“Framing you was more of a convenient coincidence than anything else,” he said. “I didn’t have any interest in what happened to you after the contract was, er, terminated. And I was being genuine at the NEV meetings, by the way. I’m not newly emerged, but those emotions were real. I have a lot of repressed pain.”
“If you start to cry, I will smack you in the face with that Dumpster,” I told him.
“Oh, the paperwork on this is going to suck so very much.” Jane sighed. “OK, Crybaby Bob, by the authority vested in me by the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead, I hereby place you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, assault, and generally behaving like a jerk. You don’t have the right to remain silent, because I’m going to need you to repeat this story to the human authorities so Libby here isn’t charged for your crime. Everything you’ve said has already been held against you, because you’ve already spilled your guts.”
The UERT guys clapped very sturdy-looking cuffs on him.
“Well, young Libby, I hope you feel better having watched justice being served,” Dick drawled.
“Not just yet,” I said. Before the UERT guy closest to me could react, I grabbed the extendable stake from his holster and stabbed the blunt end into Bob’s chest, right where he’d jabbed me with the rake handle. It wouldn’t enter his heart, but, as I knew all too well, it would hurt like a bitch.
Bob howled, only letting up when he realized I had not, in fact, killed him. “You’re crazy!”
“OK, now I feel better.”
“You can’t really do that when we already have him in custody,” Jane said.
“Well, then, charge me with abuse of a contract killer.”
15
Parenting is a lot of work, but whether you’re living or dead or somewhere in between, there are plenty of moments that make all that effort worthwhile.
—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting
I was using my vampire speed to whipstitch my son’s best friend into a sumo costume—which seemed like a misappropriation of vampire superpowers.
“Mom, hurry up, we’re next!” Danny hissed, smoothing his fingers over his upper lip to make sure his adhesive matador’s mustache was still in place.
Honestly, this was the strangest school Christmas play I’d ever seen.
Well, technically, it was a winter holiday play, because we weren’t allowed to call it a Christmas play. Even in Half-Moon Hollow, the schools had to give at least the appearance of separation of church and state.
The theme of the first grade’s presentation was “Peace on Earth,” and all of the kids were dressed like people from other world cultures. Well, stereotypes of people from other world cultures. Harley was a sumo wrestler. Danny was a matador. Other cast members included a chubby Italian chef, a mime, and, for some reason, a mummy. I found that offensive on behalf of living Egyptian people, but I also knew that Parker McHune’s mother couldn’t sew, so wrapping her son in Ace bandages was the best she could do.
I glanced around the painted globe backdrop and spotted Marge. She was smiling to beat the band, anxiously shifting in her seat, trying to get a glimpse of Danny backstage. He wanted his costume to be a surprise for his mamaw, and she could hardly wait to see her tiny bullfighter.
Danny and Marge had been spending more time together after school and had regular sleepovers with all the popcorn and extra-smelly treats he could reasonably consume. I couldn’t say there was no tension in our relationship now, but Marge was much more respectful of boundaries. When I said no to something, she actually agreed instead of trying to renegotiate. When I asked her to have Danny back home at a certain time, she brought him back at that time. She was his grandmother again, instead of a surrogate mother, and I’d like to think we were both more comfortable with it. I had hope for us both.
In other grandparental news, Max was sitting in the back row, next to Finn, recording the play on a very expensive-looking video camera. I could make out his huge, blinding-white smile even in the darkened auditorium. I was less open to letting Danny spend time with my father unaccompanied, but since Max seemed intent on quality time with both of us, that bothered him not at all. We’d had family movie nights and family park outings, which I would admit were a little strange after dark.
But Danny loved having the swings all to himself, and it was . . . nice spending time with Max. He filled in holes in my history I didn’t even know existed, telling me stories about my mother, how they met, their courtship. While I didn’t quite trust him, I wanted to, and that was progress.
Wade was sitting in the front row, dutifully holding up his cell phone in preparation for Harley to walk out onstage and sing his line from “We Are the World.” He caught my eye and winked. I smiled, shaking my head. I finished stitching the torn sleeve of Harley’s fat suit and ran the thread across my extended fang, severing it.
“OK, sweetie,” I said, straightening the fake topknot on Harley’s head. “Go knock ’em dead.” I kissed his forehead. He tolerated the kiss in a manly fashion and had the good grace not to wipe it off in front of me.
“Me, too,” Danny muttered quietly as Harley waddled out onto the stage. I chuckled and kissed his forehead.
“Go out there and belt out some ridiculously outdated nostalgic tripe.”
Danny screwed up his face in confusion. “What?”
“Never mind.”
“Emma’s mom isn’t this weird,” he grumbled.
I clucked my tongue, adjusting Danny’s matador cape. “Well, sweetheart, your mom’s always going to be just a little bit weird compared with the other kids’ moms.”
“Eh, that’s OK,” Danny said. “You’re pretty cool.”
“I love you more than anything,” I told him.
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I pushed the matador hat over his ears. “You ready for your big moment?”
“Yep.”
I watched Danny walk out onstage, sweeping his cape as he sang, “We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving!” He stood next to Harley, wrapping his arm around his friend’s heavily padded shoulders. He was so happy. Happy and safe and secure.
I’d made the right choice, getting turned. If I hadn’t taken the sketchy route to immortality, I would have missed this moment, and so many moments to come. All of the trouble I’d had—the heartbreak, the confusion, the murder charges—was worth it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement backstage. Jane was lurking in the wings. Considering that she was neither a parent nor a staff member, this was unusual. She waved to me, pressing a finger to her lips. Dick appeared from behind her, waving, along with Andrea.
Chelsea Harbaker, who was watching her child perform from backstage for entirely different reasons, shrank away from Jane and retreated deeper into the shadows. She was having a rough month, having just been ousted as PTA president. After the success of the Pumpkin Patch, Chelsea—flush with new power—had taken to wearing a lapel microphone during PTA meetings. She wanted to be sure that everybody could hear everything she had to say. And they did. Especially when she neglected to turn off said lapel mic after the November meeting. And went into the teachers’ lounge to complain to her cronies about the “hillbilly idiots” she had to deal with in the parent volunteer pool and how she wanted to tell all of them what she thought of their “little brats.” And started naming names.
Casey Sparks dove for the amp that was carrying Chelsea’s remarks into the meeting room, but Kerrianne grabbed her by the arms and prevented her from turning it off. Casey’s rant was delivered at full volume for every member present.
She was Half-Moon Hollow Elementary’s first PTA president ever to be impeached. Kerrianne was running to replace her in the emergency election in January.
Seeing Jane, I moved carefully through the veritable maze of stacked cafeteria tables and old play props—backward, because I didn’t want to miss a moment of Danny’s performance.
“You know you don’t actually have to show up at all of the school events now,” I told Jane. “I have my bloodthirst well under control.”
“We’re not here because we don’t trust you,” Jane whispered. “We’re here because we enjoy musical performances by elementary-school children . . . That sounded less creepy in my head.”
“I should hope so,” Andrea muttered.
“Just tell her the truth,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “We are here on actual Council business.”
“Nice shirt, by the way,” I told him, nodding toward the T-shirt that read “Don’t look up for the mistletoe” with an arrow pointing toward his waistband. “Do I have to remind you that you are at an elementary school?”
“I didn’t know we were going to an elementary school when I left the house,” he grumbled.
I frowned, shaking my head. “Still.”
“So I can’t help but notice that Finn is sitting in the audience, with your dad, which is sort of weird,” Andrea noted, nodding toward the vampire in question.
I shushed her. “Yes, Finn is here as a friend,” I told her. “We’re trying this new thing where we spend time together, and we’re cordial, but we don’t make out. Considering that my dad is with us most of that time, it’s working out better than I expected.”
“And Finn’s OK with this?”
“Well, he’s not thrilled, but he’s not pouting about it, which I appreciate,” I said.
“But I want you and Finn to be together.” Andrea groaned. “He’s all scheme-y and redeemable. Like Loki but with better clothes.”
“Your fangirl shipping issues are not my problem.”
“But what about Finn’s daywalking tendencies?” Jane asked.
“Actually, Gigi’s boyfriend, Nik, thinks he might be able to help him with that,” I said. “Some of the postcurse techniques he’s learning specifically target keeping control of your emotional head space. It’s been very helpful for him.”
Jane sighed. “Well, in other news . . .” she said, glaring at Andrea. “The news we actually came to deliver is that you have been awarded a substantial reward for aiding in the capture of one of the Council’s most-wanted criminals.”
With a flourish, Dick handed me a slender envelope marked with the Council’s insignia.
“Really?”
“It turns out that Crybaby Bob was a hit man of some repute,” Jane said. “And while the Council generally tolerates murder, it finds murder for hire distasteful. Particularly when it causes trouble between the human and vampire authorities. Bob has been on the Council radar for the past ten years. He changed his appearance frequently to put us off. We were looking for someone with a dirty-blond bowl cut and a goatee, which, honestly, should have tipped us off. What sort of vampire has a bowl cut? The international office was very pleased to have him off the streets. And because you did technically defeat him in battle, they added a little something extra to your check. Like a tip that says, ‘Thank you for prompt and polite service in catching our pesky murderer.’ ”
“I thought the ‘defeat in battle’ clause only came into play in cases where one vampire kills another,” I said as I opened the envelope.
“They were that happy to have Bob in custody,” Jane said.
I damn near dropped the slim slip of paper when I saw all of the zeros. “This is the price on Bob’s head?”
“Plus tip,” Jane reminded me.
“That’s a heck of a tip,” I marveled. “This is . . . this is insane. I didn’t know you could fit that many digits in an amount box.”
“I had to have the accounting department process it twice,” Dick said with a hint of childlike glee.
I just stared at the check. I didn’t have to worry about Danny’s college tuition. I could buy us the biggest house in Half-Moon Hollow. I didn’t have to worry about depending on anyone. I was completely independent. I didn’t have to worry about money. And thanks to the delicate peace I’d started with Marge, the specter of my in-laws and their threat to custody of my son was gone. And I didn’t have to worry about my position in the community, because my community had changed.
It was going to be a merry freaking Christmas indeed.
Dick bussed my cheek. “Enjoy your spoils of war, sweetie.”
“See you at Christmas dinner a
t my house?” Jane asked.
“Danny can’t wait,” I said.
Grinning, I peeked around the backdrop, watching Danny take his big bow. I clapped loudly, whistling through my teeth. In the back of the auditorium, I saw Finn sitting in the last row. He saw me and grinned, pointing to Max’s camera. Got it, he mouthed.
I waved back and whispered, “Thanks.”
A good bullfighter didn’t back down from aggressive livestock or cheek kisses. Especially when those kisses came from his mamaw.
“You were such a good matador!” Marge cooed, smooching Danny’s cheeks. He was a man about it and accepted it without wiping them off.
“Thanks, Mamaw,” he said, holding up his accessories. “Did you see my cape?”
“I did,” Marge said, nodding. “Mom did a wonderful job sewing it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“My sister is having Christmas Eve dinner at her house, and she would love it if you would both be able to join us,” Marge said.
“Christmas isn’t at your house this year?”
“I’m not up for hosting this year. I’m actually looking forward to being a guest for once,” Marge said.
I smiled at her, a little sad. I’d put a lot of thought into our holiday schedule this year. I didn’t want Marge to be alone for her first Les-less Christmas season. But I wanted to try to make Danny’s holiday as normal as possible. He’d agreed readily to waking up in the wee hours so we could have Christmas morning early enough for me. (Honestly, it was only an adjustment of an hour or so from his normal Christmas-morning wake-up call.)
“Actually, while I’m sure Danny would enjoy it, I don’t think Christmas dinner would work for me, what with the smells of the food,” I said. The also, your relatives drive me insane was silent but implied. “But we’ve been thinking about Christmas, and we were wondering, what would you think of coming over first thing Christmas morning, after I go to sleep for the day, so you can have all day with him and his new toys?”
