Finally breaking the weird trance I was suffering from with a shake of my head, I reached out to snatch the card off the table and ended up playing a game of Slap Jack with Fang as he also made a grab for it. Little did he know, I was a Slap Jack champion from way back, plus...I was also well known for my proclivity to cheating and the victory was easily mine. Giving him a smug grin, I tucked the card into my back pocket.
He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing to two tiny icy slits. "Do not tell me you are even considering giving him a call." His lips twisted in displeasure.
I shrugged noncommittally. Actually, I didn't think he was the type of guy you called. You didn't just ring up a guy like that on the phone. You drew a pentagram on the floor surrounded with candles, did some chanting and conjured him up.
"He's dangerous, Red." He took a deep breath and leaned across the table. "You know who he is and what he is capable of doing."
Well...duh! I didn't need a flip-book to remind me of what had happened to poor Aurora. But, unlike her, I wasn't looking for a date. I needed answers and if I couldn't get them from the stoic vampire sitting across from me, then I would get them from the devil himself if I had to.
"He will slowly torture you until you beg for death..."
I rolled my eyes and held up my hand to stop him. "Don't start with me and your doom and gloom speech. I could not be less in the mood for it."
"It's the truth," he snapped. "Nothing good will come from it. You will only be endangering yourself and others who wish to protect you. You know what side you need to be on, Red and it's not with Stoker."
He gave me far too much credit. I didn't know crap-o-la about what was going on or why there was even a side that I needed to choose. I only knew the bits and pieces I had picked up like loose marbles along the way. For one thing, I had certainly learned the only person on the planet who seemed the least bit interested in saving my undead butt, was Fang. The rest of the vampires, I looked over at Courtanya who made a slitting motion across her throat, and minions...wanted me permanently six feet under.
I also knew the man whose number was currently burning a hole in my backside and oddly enough, had an area code of 666...was ultimately responsible for my present vampire condition, but I didn't know the reason behind it. Why? Why am I here? How did he manage to do something the rest of the vampire community considered a fundamental sin? Why did it seem like everyone and their brother wanted to kill me? Why did I get the feeling I was in the middle of some kind of sick game of tug-of-war where the only loser was me? And where the hell were my waffles?
"She is of low intelligence, your Majesty. She is incapable of understanding," Courtanya threw her two cents worth in, rousing herself out of her earlier subdued silence. "You need to listen to my Mistress. Kill her before she kills us all." With that, she leaned in and wrapped her lips around her straw, draining the glass of soda down in record time.
"I. Will. Not. Kill. Her."
"You. Need. To." Courtanya hissed back before she let out a burp a truck driver would have been proud of. A look of pure horror passing over her face as she frowned down at the now empty glass.
"Why. Are we. Talking. Like this?" I asked, forcing a laugh into a cough at Bubbles as she tried to figure out the mystical powers of carbonation. This was not the time to find entertainment in bodily functions. Even though, judging by the way her eyes were watering, that burp must have been a real nose burner.
Fang continued to glare at me from across the table. I bet he never made a pull my finger joke in all of his years of wandering on this Earth.
"Here we go!" Brittany broke the stare standoff happening at the table with her perky presence. Obviously, her earlier fear long forgotten as she gawked at Fang. I swear I could hear her I.Q. dropping as he gave her a tight lipped smile and thanked her.
Again, I reached up and rescued my plate and Courtanya's before it headed to the floor as her tray tipped precariously so she could lean closer to him.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked breathlessly, her voice tinged with hope.
Fang shook his head and continued to glare at me. Well...at least the call of her breasts were no longer beckoning him, I thought with a sigh. Though, giving the way he was looking at me, I might need to borrow them to distract him long enough to make an escape.
"We need another refill." I pointed to Bubbles empty glass, hoping to break the trance.
Brittany turned and blinked at us as if she was just realizing we were still there. Giving me a little nod of her head, she turned back to Fang. Of course.
"Coming right up," she told him, backing away...slowly. Her blue eyes practically begging him to call her back.
Turning to my plate, I avoided Fang's subzero gaze like the plague.
"If this isn't heaven, I don't know what is!" I chirped with a forced cheerfulness as I pulled my waffle over to me and slathered it in butter and then drowned it in syrupy goodness. I noticed my hands still trembled as I handed the syrup dispenser to him as a peace offering.
After leaving me hanging like an Aunt Jemima statue for a minute, he took it and set it down with a clack against the table.
"We apparently celebrate very different Gods," Fang muttered, peeling his stare away from me long enough to frown at his plate.
What was his problem, I thought as I reached over and started cutting up Courtanya's food as if she was a toddler. Something she didn't appreciate by the way, judging by the way she was slapping at my hands.
"Get your dirty fingers off my food," she hissed. "How am I to eat this...this...travesty against food?"
Sighing heavily, I handed her a spoon, but I jerked it out of her reach before she could grab it.
"This is for eating only. If you so much as think of using it for anything else, I will put your food on the floor and you can eat it like a dog or go hungry," I warned her. Yes...I may have gotten my wish for waffles, but I was still tired, on edge thanks to Mr. Stoker's appearance and grouchy. Not a good combination when dealing with irritatingly cute murderous minions.
She raised her eyebrows at me and was about to open her mouth, but one snarl from me showing a little canine persuasion had her snapping it shut and nodding her head in agreement. Holding the spoon out to her, she quickly snatched it...sticking her tongue out at me as she did so. Ungrateful little...
"Do not let Stoker fool you, Red." Fang's somber words broke my inner tantrum. "He doesn't care about you, only the blood pumping in your veins." He carefully sliced into a piece of country ham and brought it to his mouth. His full lips parted and wrapped around the tines of his fork, pulling the morsel into his mouth. A glimmer of grease clung to his bottom lip like a lover and he caressed it away with a slow lick of his tongue.
I started panting. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! I had forgotten, eating with him was like watching porn.
I waved my fork in the air, sending a dab of butter flying across the table. Drat.
"Gross! Do you mind not talking about blood right now? If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to eat." I spluttered, attempting to pull my eyes away from his mouth as he chewed, but was as successful at as Brittany. Double drat! "Besides, until I know the facts, I will be making my own decisions...thank you very much." I trusted a fart after a Del Taco binge more than I trusted Mr. Stoker, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"You are the most ignorant, pertinacious..."
"Senseless, narcissistic...," Bubbles added around a mouthful of waffle, giving me a syrupy smile.
"That will do, Courtanya," Fang hissed, banging his fist on the table.
"Here's your refill," Brittany purred, handing Courtanya's glass to Fang.
The few bites I had managed to eat threatened to come back up as she jiggled her chest at him.
"Will you be needing anything else?" she asked. As he looked up at her, you could practically hear the girl sizzle in her Fruit of the Looms.
"No, thank you, Brittany," he said, lifting a napkin and dabbing at his lips. Brittany and I both moaned in unison. "Just the check, please." Her head bobbled and she skipped off to do his bidding. "Listen, Red. This isn't the place for the discussion we need to have." He folded up his napkin and laid it next to his plate before picking up his fork and continuing with his meal.
"When is the right time, Fang? Maybe before you blew up my house? You might have given me a head up then." I shoved a bite of waffle in my mouth and chewed angrily, narrowing my eyes at him. I swallowed not tasting a thing. "How about before your Elder buddies hung me up to dry in the dungeon? That would have been a great time. Or are you waiting for something more spectacular? Like when your brothers at the compound are strapping me to a post and getting ready for a bonfire?" My voice rose in octaves as I spoke.
He quirked that damnable eyebrow at me. "My bothers will not lay a finger on you, I swear it."
A laugh bubbled up my throat.
"You don't believe me?" he asked, his eyes widening with a forkful of grits suspended midway to his lips.
"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, snaggletooth." I sighed as he continued to just look at me as if I had just licked the floor of the Waffle House clean. "You do realize I've almost died so many times since meeting you that I lost count?" It took an effort, but I managed to keep my voice steady and calm. It was a rarity that I showed vulnerability, but thought of meeting another group of vampires didn't exactly give me a warm fuzzy feeling. In fact, I was so filled with dread, I was having a hard time finishing my waffle. Considering how I eat, that was saying a lot. I took the last bite and swirled it around in a pool of syrup before forcing it past my lips.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Bubbles holding the ketchup bottle aloft ready to christen my head like the Queen Mary. Heaving an exasperated breath, I lifted my hand up in time for the meaty part of the bottle to slap my palm instead of my cranium. Snatching the bottle, I gave her a full, deep growl and her face was briefly highlighted in a bright green. Great. My eyes were glowing like two little radioactive emerald chunks of uranium. Huh? I thought that only happened when I was turned on, but apparently being pissed off also worked.
Squirming away from me, she delivered a somewhat apologetic tight smile and held up the spoon. "I kept my word and didn't use the utensil," she said sweetly.
Reaching out, I grabbed the spoon and bent it into a pretzel shape. Tossing it back on her plate, I turned to Fang.
"And that's not even counting all the of the mini Assassin Creed's attempts over here," I told him, shaking the bottle at him before I set it far out of Bubble's reach. He sent a scowl over at Courtanya who simply shrugged and guzzled the last of her second Diet Coke until the ice rattled in the bottom of the glass.
"Unlike some, I will not abandon my race nor disappoint my Mistress," she declared with a cynical smile at Fang.
Oh-oh...shots fired. By the look of rage boiling across Fang's handsome mug, my little immortal was about to be introduced to her maker and I didn't mean Druilla. Assuming it was Druilla who had turned her immortal to begin with. I wasn't exactly sure about her pedigree. Either way, I wondered if old Dru wished for a roll of duct tape the way I was right now.
This was the reason I didn't have pets. It was just too much trouble trying to keep them alive, especially when they insisted on nipping at the rolling tires of a temperamental vampire who wouldn't hesitate to mow her down just for the satisfaction of hearing her bones crunch.
I was just about to flash my boobs or something to distract him from ripping Bubbles from limb to limb. Though, I have to admit, I thought about letting him do it. Okay...okay...settle down, it was only for a second or two, but hell...it was tempting. Needless to say I didn't need to pull up my shirt because I was saved by Brittany jogging up to the table. Her chest bouncing like Dolly Parton running downhill magically caught Fang's blazing gaze. That'll do, I thought shaking my head.
"Here's your check," she gushed, bending down far enough Fang could have checked her bellybutton for lint.
"Thank you, Brittany," he muttered, taking the little tray with our bill from her trembling hands.
"It's been my...pleasure," she said, her mouth pulling back in a smile that said she was willing to swallow enough of Fang's DNA to become related to him.
"Okay, Brit...go take a stroll in the walk-in, sweetie," I told her, jerking my thumb over my shoulder in the direction she had come from. There was only so much of her drooling I could take and since I was no longer in fear of her spitting in my food...I decided I was at my saliva limit for the evening.
With a huff at me and a long drawn out fluttering of lashes at Fang, she finally left. Breathing a sigh of relief, I leaned back and reached for my Diet Coke only to find it was in the process of being slurped down by Bubbles. Great. I had created a Coke fiend with a fondness for slaughter who was now hyped up on caffeine.
Fang cleared his throat, bringing my scowl over to him. He cocked his brow at me and pushed the bill in my direction.
"You expect me to pay?" I gasped in disbelief.
"Don't look at me," Courtanya said with another burp that smelled like maple syrup. "I was brought here against my will."
"I don't know if you noticed, but I was stripped of everything but my pants when I was tossed in the dungeon. For defending you, I might add." He held up his hands and brushed them down the front of his burly chest. My eyes enviously followed his hands as they traveled over his perfect pecs, lingering a bit longer than they should have over his nipples pushing against the softness of his t-shirt. "If I hadn't been, Stoker would have a sizeable hole smoking in the middle of his forehead instead of trying to turn you against me," he grumbled.
I caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes that was rather startling. Drat! I didn't mean to upset him. It just seemed these last few days I had been on a ride I couldn't get off of. It reminded me of the one time I went to Disneyland and ended up sitting stuck in the middle of an animated cheery hell in a damn boat for hours when the ride malfunctioned. I still twitch uncontrollably anytime somebody says, "It's a small world".
"Listen, Fang," I said while I dug through my purse for my credit card, "he didn't turn me against you, if that was the case I wouldn't be still sitting here paying for waffles." I tossed the card on the tray and noticed Brittany had written her name and phone number on it. Complete with a little heart dotting the I. Of course she would dot her I's with a heart, she probably just graduated the sixth grade yesterday.
Moving so fast I could barely track him, Fang seized my credit card and held it up.
"Don't tell me you've been paying for everything with this?" he growled at me, waving it under my nose.
His eyes were narrow slashes of icy fire, his lips curled up in such a vicious snarl he looked like one of those stuffed saber-toothed tigers they have in museums. Only far, far more ferocious.
"Yes," I eeped, pulling Bubbles in front of me. Using her struggling form as a shield against those glowing eyes of his.
"What were you thinking!" he said through gritted teeth, his jaw grinding like a peppermill. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! He was freaking mad. Scary mad. Like I'm going to have nightmares about this, kind of mad.
"I...I..."
"Exactly! You weren't, as usual!"
"Hey! Now what just a minute..." He shut off my tirade in defense of my intelligence with a slash of his hand.
"This is how Stoker found us and this," he welded the card back under my nose, "is how the Colony is going to find us." With deft fingers, he tore my card up into itty bitty pieces and sprinkled it on top of the tray like confetti. I'm not going to lie...I teared up a little.
Jumping to his feet, he rounded the table and grabbed my hand, yanking me out of the booth.
"We need to leave, now."
"But...but..." I snatched my purse and Bubbles just as he started pulling me towards the exit. "What about the bill?"
Before we got to the door, a balding man in yellow and brown plaid pants with a stained, bright yellow Waffle House t-shirt stretched within an inch of its life around his belly, stopped us at the door.
"Excuse me, sir," he said in a nasally voice and for a moment, I thought he might be related to Brion. It was obvious they shared the same hairstylist. "I think you forgot to pay your bill." He rocked back in his white, plastic boat shoes and gave us a toothy grin. Or...um...rather...a tooth grin.
"What is your name?" Fang huffed, annoyed to be stopped.
"Stanley. I'm the manager of this fine establishment."
Fang passed a palm over his face and Stanley's expression went utterly blank. "You've decided to comp the meal, Stanley," he murmured in a dark hypnotic voice. "You have no memory of us having been here." With a blink, Stanley came too and walked right past us as if we weren't standing there and started barking orders at some poor busboy.
"Man, I so need you the next time those collection agency jerks call," I yelped as he jerked me out the door.
Author's Note:
Poor Mel, she royally screwed up...again. Do you think she's going to call Stoker or will Drake break the silence? Stay tuned to find out!
Hello my FANGED Fiends!
I hope you enjoyed this latest installment and if you liked it, you will consider giving it a vote. I also love hearing from you and comments are always appreciated.
The next scheduled update for FANGED is June 3rd.
If you don't see any updates here, please check out my other works Bending Steele, When Roses Collide and Steal You Away.
As always, thank you for reading!
Sincerely,
K