I snorted. “I’m not asking you to march in any pride parades, Mama.”
Daddy stood, wedging himself in the crossfire. “Now, let’s not say anything we’ll regret.”
“Oh, I think we’re already there.” I was fully prepared to vamp out and leap onto the roof just to complete Mama’s traumatic-offspring-treachery scenario. She was definitely sending Reverend Neel after me for this one. “You didn’t let me get turned into a vampire. I didn’t let me get turned into a vampire. It just happened. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Honey, please, we’re just trying to understand what’s happening,” Daddy pleaded.
Mama and I trenched ourselves in a sullen silence. Poor Daddy just looked back and forth between the two of us, like some spectator held prisoner at a tennis match.
“How do you expect to live this way?” Mama finally demanded. “How will you work? Where are you going to live? How will you take care of yourself?”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for quite some time now,” I insisted. “I’m going to keep living at River Oaks, as long as someone doesn’t try to kill me for it again. And I’ve gotten a new night job at a bookstore. I’m going to be fine, Mama. You know, Zeb joined this group, the Friends and Family of the Undead. It’s like a support group for people who know newly turned vampires. I think it might help you.”
“You told Zeb before you told us?” Mama shouted.
Oh, crap.
“How could you do that?” Mama cried. “We’re your family!”
“He found out the night I rose,” I said. “But no one else knows. Except for some of the vampires I’ve met. And Andrea, a girl who hangs out with a lot of vampires. Oh, and Jolene, Zeb’s fiancée.”
“Zeb’s getting married? Before you?”
Double crap.
“We just need to get you over to Dr. Willis and let him take a look at you,” Mama said, moving to pat my leg, then stopping, her hand frozen a few inches over me.
She was afraid to touch me. My own mother could not bring herself to lay her hands on me. Something inside me greeted quick, quiet death. “There’s not much he can do for me.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Mama snarled. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you talk like this. You can’t even try taking it seriously, can you? You died, and you have to make jokes, have to make me feel like an idiot for not understanding.”
“Mama, just let me take you home,” I said, reaching for her.
She shied away from me. “No, I think we’ll stay right here. Why don’t you go on home?”
“Well, because it’s not safe for you to be here by yourself. Who knows what Missy has here or whether one of her newbie minions is going to show up? You would be easy prey. I need to stay with you. And technically, I think this is my house, anyway. When you kill another vampire, that usually means you get their stuff. Besides, you don’t have a car. How are you going to get home?”
“We’ll have Jenny drive us.” Mama sniffed.
Great, bring up the living daughter. One more thing Jenny had on me—two kids, a husband, and a pulse.
I reluctantly untied my sister. With an indignant squeal, she broke loose from the ropes and pulled her gag away. She was about to scream at me when I clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, whatever excuse you’re about to give, don’t. I’m not talking to you for a while. Not until the urge to throttle you goes away. Stay away from the house, and stay away from me. Pretend that I don’t exist. It should be easy enough considering the practice you’ve had.”
“Jane, get your hands off her!” Mama yelled.
I stared at my mother. “You think I’m going to hurt her, don’t you?”
Mama said nothing. Daddy wrapped an arm around her. “Now, Sherry—”
“John, don’t!” she snapped, pushing his arm away. “Don’t take her side!”
“Stop! Please, just stop,” I told her, holding my hands up in my best “I’m not going to attack you” stance. “It’s OK, Daddy. I’m leaving.”
Daddy shot a bewildered look my way and rose. “We’ll talk soon, honey.”
“’Bye, Daddy.” I stepped close to kiss his cheek and was grateful when he didn’t pull away.
He squeezed my hand and winked at me. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes and down my cheeks. He hesitated, then kissed my cheek again.
I rounded the house and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. And that’s when I learned that vampire tears have blood in them. Bloody tears that my father saw. Great.
I pulled my car away from the house but watched from the end of the street. I watched the taillights of Jenny’s SUV fade into the distance as my family drove away.
Well, I’d finally been honest. My parents knew everything, and they’d heard it from me. Whether my family accepted it or not was up to them.
On a positive note, maybe I wouldn’t have to go to Christmas dinner that year.
Remember that life, or unlife, is what you make of it. (From The Guide for the Newly Undead).
I figured that if I could rescue my parents from my super-secret arch-nemesis in a battle to the death, I could face my former coworkers. Besides, I still needed Mrs.
Stubblefield’s signature for my undead employment benefits.
I was obviously going to have to find another part-time job until the council unclenched and handed over my ill-gotten gains for dusting Missy. Personally, I thought they were withholding the money to teach me a life lesson in self-sufficiency and keeping my nose clean. Or something. Also, I thought it amused Ophelia to watch me squirm.
And Jenny, aware that she might never inherit River Oaks now that I was immortal, had sent me several legal notices demanding certain antiques and valuables.
So, now I had legal fees to worry about.
It was a nice, clear evening, just after dusk, no worry about spontaneous combustion. Vampires live(ish) for sunsets like that. Pressing my hands against the doors, I prayed for strength and the fortitude not to use my stealthy vampire powers to do something bad to Posey…or Posey’s stupid lunch bag.
The first thing I noticed was that the security system was turned off, meaning anybody could just walk out the library’s front door with an unchecked book without setting off the alarm. Posey was sitting behind the front desk, flipping through a copy of Elle instead of helping the elderly patron carrying a heavy stack of Agatha Christie mysteries. Despite the fact that I did not punch her in the face on sight, she was not thrilled to see me when I sauntered up to the information desk and asked for Mrs.
Stubblefield in my most syrupy-sweet voice.
“She’s not available,” huffed Posey as she turned her back on me to give the elderly patron some attention finally.
I tapped her on the shoulder.
“Well, could you please let her know that I’ll be in the special collections room, and when she has a minute, I would really appreciate just a few minutes of her time?” I cooed.
“I’ll see if she has a minute.” Posey sighed, rolling her eyes.