Chapter One

“Marty?”

“Nina?”

“I need to talk to you, and I need to talk to you now.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I know. It’s late and believe me, I wouldn’t be calling you at midnight out there in the great beyond if it wasn’t like a real 911.”

“Okay, so talk,” Marty said, yawning so loudly it sounded like the howl of the Santa Anna winds to Nina.

“You know that fucking werewolf thing?”

“Yes, Nina. What about the fucking werewolf thing? I know it still seems unbelievable. It is what it is. So do we have to have “the talk” again? We’ve only been over it a hundred times since it happened.”

Nina rolled her eyes and literally bit her tongue. It wasn’t like she wanted to go over it again any more than Marty did. However, had she never experienced what she had with Marty Andrews, now Marty Flaherty, she wouldn’t have the kind of simpatico she did with this particularly sensitive issue.

Marty—once her regional Independent Color Supervisor at the prestigious Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics—self-proclaimed color wheel of life freak—find your aura and be the best you can be diva—was a werewolf.

By accident.

She was a raw beef eating, bay at the moon, hairy-assed werewolf. If anyone could give her advice about what to do right now, it was her former color wheel coach, now friend turned lupine, Marty.

“Did you hear me, Nina? We’ve gone over this a hundred ti—”

“How about we shoot for one-hundred-and-one?”

“What are you talking about? God, Nina. It’s definitely not like you to beat around the bush. You have such a lovely, direct nature. You know the one where you just say whatever’s on your mind, with as many cuss words as you can cram into a sentence, and forget that people around you might find your potty mouth offensive? What’s the hold up? Did someone yank your tongue out of your head?”

“I need you to listen to me, Marty, and I need you to listen closely.”

“Color me listening.”

“I’m a vampire.”

A snort of derisive laughter, brittle and scathing with a little “poor Nina” thrown in for good measure, crackled in her earpiece. “Sweetie? Are you feeling the green-eyed monster biting your ass? I know the whole werewolf thing caught you off guard and I understand that, but you don’t have to make up crazy stories to get my attention. I’m always here for you—even if I do live in Buffalo and you up and dumped Wanda and me for Hackensack. Really, this kind of attention seeking is typical of separation anxiety. You miss us. We miss you too, honey.” Marty took a breath, gathering her therapist-like steam.

“Maybe we’ll plan a girl’s weekend, huh? Like borrow Keegan’s little plane and hit a tropical locale. Oh! I know—Cancun. God, this time of year would be perfect. I’ll even shut my mouth if you want to Speedo chase. I promise—no matter how disgusting it gets. We’ll bring nothing but our bathing suits and sit by the ocean while we drink those pink drinks with umbrellas in them. They’re sooo festive. So stop all this silly talk about vampires and such and come to Buffalo. If you pack a—”

Nina’s hand clenched the phone. Cheerist, Marty, God love her, could be such a rambling pain is the derriere given just an inch. “Marty! Shut the hell up and listen to me. Listen to me carefully. This has shit to do with your werewolf-ism and jealousy and men in Speedos.” Nina fought a shudder over the mental image that brought to mind. “I am not jealous. Who could possibly be jealous of that tail of yours?”

When Marty had been turned into a werewolf, for awhile there, she’d had a lot of trouble shifting fully as she’d called it. The only time she had even a bit of success was when she was angry. When she was PO’d, a small, nubby tail would pop out on her ass and the first time Nina had seen it, it had left her speechless.

A rare occurrence indeed.

Though Marty’s shifting issues had cleared up, her embarrassment because of it hadn’t and Nina used that to her own advantage often.

Just because she could. Which was probably meaner than shit, but leverage with Marty was leverage.

Marty’s gasp was crisp, hurting Nina’s sensitive ear’s. It sounded like a thousand dentist drills screeching in her head. “Don’t you dare, Nina Blackman! Do not even remind me of the struggles I’ve endured over being bitten by a werewolf. The utter humiliation I suffered because I couldn’t fully shift was just atrocious. Don’t even go there, you potty mouth! I will not be subjugated and ridiculed by you—”

God, if Marty could do anything well it was yak—at full speed with nary a pause for breath. Yeah, okay, it had been an accident. They’d been walking Marty’s maniacal, overprotective, teacup poodle, Muffin, near an alleyway in the city after a particularly disappointing Bobbie-Sue meeting. Wherein humiliation reigned supreme for her and Wanda Schwartz, Marty’s other recruit, because they sucked big man-hooters when it came to selling lip gloss.

On that crazy night, Marty’d been reaming them a new one over their supposed lack of motivation to sell, sell, sell when they’d spied what they’d thought was nothing more than a big beast of a dog. Muffin, being the whack job she was, took him on like she was David and he was Goliath. In the melee of trying to dislodge Muff from the beast’s jaws of death, it had bitten her. Only this beast wasn’t just a beast. He was a half human, half werewolf named Keegan Flaherty, and he’d infected Marty with his lycanthropic-ness.

Nina had seen the result of it herself.

That’s how she knew what was going on and nobody was going to tell her differently.

“Nina? Are you there? You listen to me, Miss Potty Mouth. I won’t have you mocking me because I was challenged—”

“Marrtyyyyyy! Would you shut the fuck up and listen to me? For once in your life, quit blabbing and listen. I’m in need here and you’re not helping.”

Marty’s intake of breath was sharp. “I know what this is… Is it that you need a deposit in your emotional bank again? Is your cry for attention account empty?”

“Marty, save the happy place speech. That’s a made up place that crazy people like you claim exists so they don’t sound crazy while they pretend nothing’s wrong. I have some news for you—there is no happy place, Marty. It’s all made up in your head and you and all of your breathing techniques and guru crap is just that—crap. So scee-rew the happy place and your bank of hippie-schmippie love child bullshit and listen very closely to me. I’m—a—vampire.”

Yep. Yep, she was.

Marty’s sigh was long, windy, and put upon. “Fine. Tell me all about your vampire-ness, Nina. I’m all ears.”

Nina rolled her dark eyes yet again, watching her fading reflection in the cracked mirror of her small apartment bathroom. It revealed a very fuzzy, distorted image—this couldn’t be good. She ran a hand over her teeth—the only thing she could define clearly in the mirror—just to be sure she wasn’t seeing things.

She hadn’t graduated dental hygienist school for nuthin’ and those incisors were definitely not in any textbook she’d ever been exposed to.

Nor was the way she could see into the apartments across the street with eyesight to rival the Green Berets and all their super night vision goggles. She couldn’t just see into them, she could actually read the label on the can of creamed corn Mrs. Fedderman had on her worn, yellowed countertop. It had an oval, orange sticker on it marked “Can-Can Sale.” Mrs. Fedderman lived for a good Can-Can sale.

She could also see Mrs. Fedderman’s Chihuahua, Freddy.

Mean, little, ankle biting motherfucker.

In fact, she couldn’t just see him, she could smell him. The lovely, luscious, coppery scent of his blood coursing through his wee little veins. It wafted to her nostrils like paradise on a breeze.

Her stomach growled like a caged, angry tiger.

Gripping the sink, Nina opened her mouth wider.

Jesus Christ.

She really had fangs. Big, white, elongated fangs.

“Nina?”

“Whaaaat?” she hissed, infuriated that Marty kept interrupting her misery. “God, Marty! Can’t you see I’m in crisis here?”

“No. I can’t see anything, Nina. We’re on the phone. Thus, your visual escapes me. So why don’t you verbally draw the picture for me?”

“Shit. Okay, here goes. I had my first patient today. Some dude with an ethnic name I can’t pronounce. Hot. He was really hot. Anyway, he was having a chipped tooth filed. No big deal and we only gave him a shot of anesthesia, but he got really, really weird like right away. Like all loopy. Some people react differently to anesthesia, so I didn’t give it a lot of thought.

“Anyway, I’m all prepping him for Dr. Berkenstein to come file him and he’s mumbling some nonsensical crap that I don’t get. Next thing I know, he jerks and clamps down on my hand. Only for a second, but he pierced my glove. Drew a bit of blood—no big deal. Scared the bejesus out of me and I have to admit I was a little woozy afterward, but when push came to shove, I was fine. Dr. Berkenstein said I should go home. I mean, he’s the boss, but it was my first day and I didn’t want to look like a wuss. But he insisted. So I came home. I got home at two in the afternoon—yesterday, Marty. Yesterday. I don’t remember anything until I woke up today—just a little while ago—with these.” She pointed to her incisors as if Marty could see them.

“Explain these, Nina.”

“Teeth, Marty. My teeth. I have freakin’ fangs!” she yelped into the phone. The realization was settling low in her belly. Like a worm burrowing under the earth, seeking shelter in the dirt.

“Fangs…”

“Did I not just say fangs, Marty? Yes, by fuck, I have goddamned fangs. Big, long, white fangs.”

“Have you been bingeing? I know you’re not prone to the lure of alcohol, but well, it’s been a difficult transition for you since you left Bobbie-Sue—”

Nina sucked in her cheeks to keep from telling Marty the truth about her Bobbie-Sue matter. It hadn’t been difficult at all for Nina to leave her friend’s cosmetic supervision. Though she’d come to really dig Marty, despite her bullshit girly crap, she’d hated trying to sell stupid units of eyeliner. She’d answered Marty’s ad for Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics in the local paper almost a year ago after the degradation of applying at McDonalds when she’d lost her stenographer job because of budget cuts.

In essence, desperation had made her consider trying to sell lip gloss and eyeliner for a living. She’d needed a job so badly then, she’d even been willing to take a shot at hawking makeup. Totally not her thing. She hated makeup.

Unfortunately, Nina could never adopt the proper Bobbie-Sue attitude, and instead of gaining clients, she’d been just shy of restraining orders and orange jumpsuits after being turned down time and again.

It’d been a relief to let go of color wheels and palettes of life and all the other shit Bobbie-Sue tried to sell you. Nina had sucked at door-to-door sales—even with Marty’s help, she’d failed miserably. Marty was a whiz at it, which was a good thing seeing as she’d ended up owning a piece of Bobbie-Sue. Now Marty spun her color wheel at regular intervals with the kind of joy contestants took in spinning the Wheel of Fortune.

When they’d all found out Marty was an heir to Bobbie-Sue, Marty had offered Nina a job, but she’d declined. It probably would have been easier, but Nina couldn’t fathom a life filled with all that frou-frou nonsense and crazy euphemisms about the colors of your life. She also didn’t take handouts. Marty knew she sucked big wankers at selling makeup, yet she’d offered her a job anyway because as annoying and pushy as Marty was, she was good people. So Nina’d decided to take advantage of an unemployment program that helped to school and re-train you in a more marketable field.

And look what that training and nice new job had gotten her.

“Marty, I swear to Christ—I’m warning you. I—have—fangs. I haven’t been drinking. I haven’t done any drugs since I was sixteen and I’m not on any anti-depressants. Now quit friggin’ playing Oprah and listen. I’m a vampire.” She knew what was happening. She knew the paranormal existed because of Marty. If there were werewolves floating around the planet, why couldn’t there be vampires too? If you had fangs, there wasn’t anything left to do but call vampire.

“A vampire,” Marty repeated, sounding vague and distant, and that sent Nina into an angry fit.

“You know what? How come you can be a werewolf and I can’t be a vampire? What’s all the skepticism about? I hear it in your voice, Marty. What the fuck makes you so special?”

Marty clucked her tongue. “Oh, Nina, Nina, Nina. It’s not like we’re playing Barbies and you’re left with nothing but Barbie’s ratty sister Skipper. This isn’t a competition. I’m a werewolf because I was bitten by one. It was an accident. You were there and it was anything but special—even if now I can’t imagine my life before it happened.” Her voice grew all breathy and dreamy. Marty and the delish man—werewolf—whatever—who’d bitten her had ended up together. Lifemates or some such crap. Now they were mating and making puppies—kids. Something like that.

Nina’s brow furrowed while Marty droned on.

“So why don’t we talk about the real issue here? You’re jealous, because I have special powers and you don’t.”

Nina whipped the phone from her ear and covered it with her hands, jumping up and down to keep from throwing it. While her feet slapped against the cold, stained tile of her bathroom, every muscle in her body fought for restraint. Between clenched teeth she struggled to tamp down the rapid rise of her fury. Placing the phone back to her ear, she spat, “Marty, I never played with Barbies. In fact, I fucking hate Barbie. I always liked GI Joe, personally. At least he didn’t have those fake pointed toes—”

“But Barbie had all those glorious clothes and the dream house. Remember the Corvette?”

“I remember, but GI Joe had guns and tanks that could run Barbie’s stupid Corvette off the road, hurl a grenade at it and leave her fancy sports car in a fiery blaze of steaming shit.”

“But Barbie had all that long hair and shoes for miles. God, I loved that—”

“Marty!”

“What? Jesus. Quit yelling in my ear. It’s sensitive, remember?”

“Could we get to the problem at hand and let the Barbie analogy go?”

“Right. You’re jealous because I have superpowers. Because I can shift and like lift a freight train. It doesn’t make you any less important, Nina—”

Nina groaned. “I am not jealous, Marty. Who could possibly be jealous over the fact that you’re a dog? Listen to me. I’m telling you the truth. I have fangs and if Mrs. Fedderman’s pooch, Freddy, doesn’t stop parading around that kitchen of hers like he’s a corn dog on a stick, I swear I’m going to go over there and bite his little legs off, fry ‘em up and dip ‘em in barbecue sauce like little fucking chicken wings!”

Nina heard Marty’s distinct gulp.

Ah, now we had the color princess’s attention.

“Okay, no biting Freddy. He didn’t do anything to you. Do you hear me, Nina? Don’t move a muscle. Stay right there. I’ll come right away. And for God’s sake, move Larry out of your line of vision.”

Larry was her pet guinea pig and yeah, it would probably be a good thing to avoid, at all costs, watching his wee guinea legs work that exercise wheel…

“Nina. Listen to me. Call Wanda for now. She’s closer. She’ll stay with you until I can get Keegan to find me someone to fly his plane to Jersey. And for God’s sake do not tell anyone else about this. You can’t trust anyone, Nina. Not a soul but me and Wanda. If this got out—well, I don’t know what would happen if it got out, but I know it would be detrimental. That’s all I know. If this werewolf thing has taught me anything, it’s to keep my mouth shut and blend. The fewer people who know, the better. Now do what I said and wait for Wanda.”

“What the hell is Wanda going to do for me? Find me a shade of Bobbie-Sue lipstick to help downplay my fangs?”

Marty scoffed. “To support you, you pain in the ass. Why must you always be so difficult? It’s a wonder we’ve stayed friends with you. You’re always so combative. Just once, shut up, stay in your apartment like a good girl, and wait for Wanda. And if I find out you left and didn’t listen to me, I will kick your ass. Make no mistake. I’m not the Marty of a year ago. I can and will take you,” she finished with a deadly calm that made Nina know she meant what she said.

She was well aware of Marty’s strength now that she was lycanthropic, but the hell she’d admit it. “The hell you can. I was raised in the Bronx. I’ll wipe the floors of Lord and Taylor with your ass.”

“Nina,” Marty said with that warning tone Nina was sure was accompanied by the narrowing of her pretty blue eyes. “Do not do battle with me tonight. I can’t tell you how important it really is to shut your mouth. I’ve lived with this werewolf secret for a while now and it isn’t like coming out of the closet or something. There are lots of people who’d far rather stake you through your cold, black heart. Oh… wait… if all that legend stuff is true about vampires and you really are one, you don’t have one of those anymore, do you?”

Nina’s hand immediately flew to her chest, pressing against the thin T-shirt she had on. Hellafino… nothing. No heartbeat.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t like you used that muscle much anyway,” she said, laughing at her own cleverness.

“Marty!”

“What?”

“I have no heartbeat. Nothing. No pulse. Not even a twitch.” Blessed hell, what else didn’t vampires have? She sank to the floor, curling up against the cool porcelain bathtub while fleeting memories of an Ann Rice movie flickered through her mind’s eye. If she remembered right, Tom Cruise didn’t seem terribly happy the entire epic saga. In fact, he’d looked pretty miserable and not at all like his Top Gun self.

Fuck. A. Duck.

“Nina, sit your scrawny ass down and do not speculate on anything. Wait for Wanda and me and whatever you do, leave Mrs. Fedderman’s dog alone. Got that?”

Nina pressed the heel of her hand against her head to ease the swirling colors of the bathroom. “Fine. Color me waiting. Hurry up. My stomach is doing all sorts of crazy shit and I’m telling you, Freddy is looking pretty tasty.” She was experiencing a hunger she’d never quite known. Yet it wasn’t the characteristic Lean Cuisine, boil-in-a-bag dinner she craved, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was she was hungry for.

The idea of food—frozen pizza—sardines in a can—some of her more typical dining fare—made her want to gag.

Marty gasped again with a brittle inhale of breath. “I’m dialing Wanda on my cell as we speak. Leave Freddy alone…”

Fine, she’d just wait. She was not going the way of Marty. There’d be no girly freak—no whining about this for a month like her friend had. She’d find the guy who did this to her, and then she’d kick his ass from here to kingdom come.

* * * * *

Three hours later and after much struggle on her part to keep from hightailing it over to Mrs. Fedderman’s house for a taste of Freddy, first Wanda, then Marty had arrived. Wanda remained silent for the entire hour before Marty entered the picture, occasionally cocking her head and reeking of confusion.

Neither looked as freaked as she’d anticipated though, and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. “Look.” She opened her mouth wide and pointed to her teeth. “Was I fucking lying, Marty? What else could it mean except that I’m a vampire?”

Marty’s blue eyes rounded, wide and obviously puzzled. Pinching her fingers together, she tweaked at one fang. “Jesus,” she muttered. “You definitely have fangs. I think you might need extra Colgate.” Her quip was sarcastic as she headed for Nina’s threadbare sofa and plumped a pillow to lean on, brushing imaginary lint from her immaculate black trousers, and scrunching the sleeves up on her bulky, peacock colored sweater. Nothing amazed Nina more than Marty’s ability to dress to perfection. No matter how unexpected the occasion, Marty was at all times impeccably outfitted and everything was always totally in her color wheel.

“What did you tell Keegan?” Nina asked, wondering exactly how Marty was able to get his fancy private plane without question, but more importantly, how he’d managed to let her leave his side for more than a nanosecond.

“Man trouble,” she answered with a sly smile. “I told him you had the boyfriend blues. He’ll be fine without me for a day or so.”

“Wow, wow, woooow.” Wanda exhaled, furrowing her brow and interrupting Marty, finally speaking for the first time since she’d arrived. “How do you talk around those? I don’t think I have a shade of lipstick that can help that.” She was much too much calm in Nina’s opinion.

“And you’re so pale. No amount of foundation is going to help that. I don’t get it, Nina.” Wanda took a place on the couch next to Marty. She looked tired. Her face devoid of makeup left her looking colorless and fragile. She’d let her dark brown hair grow in the past year, and, though Nina would never say it out loud, it suited her in the way it brushed against her shoulders. “How did this happen again?”

“The guy I was prepping for Dr. Berkenstein got loopy from his anesthesia. Most people just get numb, but not this guy. He was mumbling some crap when my hand was in his mouth to suction. All of a sudden he went slack and clamped down. He has to be the one responsible for this, right? I mean, you don’t just grow fangs overnight.”

Wanda nodded her agreement. “Well, he’s as good a place to start as any, I would think. He’s at least worthy of a look-see.”

“I don’t get it, he barely nicked me.”

Marty snorted. “Er, yeah. That’s what I said, too, and look at me now.” She made a pair of ears over her head with her fingers.

“Well, now I have these.” Nina pointed to her fangs again with an unpolished fingernail.

“You know,” Wanda commented wryly, “it sure would be nice if you both could stay out of trouble for a whole two minutes. If it isn’t Marty being kidnapped and werewolf-tised, it’s you with teeth like a Halloween costume.”

Nina couldn’t much blame Wanda for her fed up tone—they had been through a lot in the past year as a group. When Marty was bitten, all hell had broken loose. She was kidnapped and all sorts of crazy stuff began to happen. Though, the final result had been a serious color wheel coup for Marty and all had ended well. To say they’d been through the ringer together this past year was putting it lightly.

Nina ran a hand through her long, dark hair, not even bothering to silently curse the curls she could never tame. “I don’t like this any better than the color wheel freak did when she became a dog, but it is what it is, and you can’t tell me any different.”

“I am not a dog, Nina Blackman, and if you don’t stop referring to me as such, things could get ugly,” Marty retorted sharply, her nostrils flaring.

“Marty, Nina…” Wanda’s warning was firm. “Do not argue. I’m beat. I worked a long week, and I’m not going to sit between the two of you while you goad one another into a pissing match about who can take who. It’s disgusting the way you both behave. Besides, this time we have the chance to do it right. Marty didn’t come to us when she turned into a werewolf. So we couldn’t possibly help her when we didn’t know what was going on. We’re three informed women now and if Nina really is a vampire, we’ll get through this together, but not while you two fight. Now go to your appropriate corners and shut your yaps.” She sat back on the couch shooting them a look that screamed one part surprised, two parts smug.

Wanda was big into the “I am woman hear me roar” scene since her husband had left and she’d found her niche at Bobbie-Sue.

It still shocked Nina that the meek, mild-mannered woman Wanda had been a year ago was the Wanda of today, daring to tell her what the fuck to do. Nina had to admit Wanda wasn’t just some rich podiatrist’s ex-wife anymore. She was a Bobbie-Sue selling machine. She’d kept her job at Bobbie-Sue and now she was really making something of her life after that puke of a husband of hers had walked out and hooked up with some floozy chick who reveled in his freaky foot fetish.

“Okay, fine. You’re right.” Nina made a face of acquiescence. “We’re much more informed than we were a year ago about this shit. Let’s take a logical approach. I can’t see any other explanation for these chops—it has to mean I’m a vampire.”

“Shouldn’t you be like all freaked out?” Wanda wondered out loud. “Don’t you remember how Marty was after she was bitten by Keegan? I mean, she totally zoned out for like a week.”

Marty giggled. “Nina’s not like us, Wanda, she’s tough. You know, like grrrrrr. She’s not afraid of anyone or anything, remember?”

Wanda nodded her head, sporting a glib smile. “Oh, yeah, right. So, tough guy, what do you plan to do about this? You can’t go beating people up over it.”

The frig she couldn’t. “I’ve got a plan,” she muttered, perching herself on the edge of her worn, leather ottoman, fighting the voracious hunger assaulting her in waves.

Marty lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Oh, do tell, Nina. I’m dying here. How exactly do you plan to beat the information out of a vampire?”

Her shoulders moved up and down in a shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, there must be a way to fix this and finding the guy who did this to me is where I should start, right?”

Marty’s look was skeptical. “I can tell you this much, there was no going back for me. Once I was bitten, that was kinda that.”

Nina frowned at her. “Thanks for the hopeful optimism, color freak.”

“Wait, you two. A thought just crossed my mind. Does Lou know?” Wanda asked, referring to Nina’s grandmother and another one of the reasons she’d moved to Hackensack.

“Are you kidding me, Wanda? My Nana Lou is more religious than the Pope. She’d have me exorcised quicker than you can say Bela Lugosi. No telling Lou anything yet. Not at all, if I can help it.”

“Do you have your laptop around here?” Marty asked, rubbing her hands together, briefly interrupting Nina’s worry over what Lou would say about her new set of chops.

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re going to look up vampires, that’s why. If I’d been in less of a state when Keegan bit me, I’d have looked the folklore of werewolves up on the Internet. I might have been better prepared if I had. Believe me when I tell you, knowing is half the battle with these paranormals.”

Nina leaned forward, reaching under the ottoman and pulling out her laptop. “Have at it.” She shoved her battered computer at Marty. Nothing about this had her thinking clearly. She couldn’t concentrate on Googling vampires right now. The only thing she did know for sure was she was so not going to wander around with teeth like this. And if Bram Stoker slash whatever his name was, really was a vampire, why didn’t his fangs stick out like hers did? There’d been nothing about his teeth that suggested he had fangs. And he’d had an afternoon appointment. Didn’t vampires melt in the sun?

Fuck, she was never going to be able to go to Rockaway Beach again.

An hour later, after endless visits to sites sporting information about vampires, Nina was less optimistic.

“Well,” Marty said, tipping her blonde head in Nina’s direction and closing the laptop. “I think we have a situation. Fangs are the least of it.”

“You know, Marty,” Nina found herself growling low, “you’re a real fucking ray of sunshine.”

“Nina—stop now.” Wanda put a hand up and shook her finger in Nina’s direction. “It’s not Marty’s fault you’re a vampire. Er, might be a vampire. We’re only trying to help. If what the Internet says is true, we have to locate Dracula and at least talk to him to find a solution. And that growling your stomach is doing is going to have to be fed, according to www.vampiresarepeopletoo.com. Um, blood…” Wanda blanched, curling her legs underneath her and worrying her lower lip.

Marty’s pert nose wrinkled. “Jesus, and I thought I had it bad having to eat red meat. I mean, I was a vegan before all this werewolf stuff, but blood? Now that’s just icky. How do you know what type to drink anyway? Like what if O neg is too rich for you and you find you’re the equivalent of lactose intolerant to it? If what the Internet says is true, you’re going to be sucking some serious neck…”

Nina tried to gasp to show her displeasure, but it came out in a choked, dry heave. “Shut up, Marty! Could you be just a little sensitive here? I am not drinking blood. Not now, not ever—so cut it the fuck out.” Thinking a deep breath might be cleansing about now, she inhaled. Sort of.

Fear rippled through her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she blew.

Nothing.

No air.

Holy immortality.

She couldn’t breathe.

What. The. Fuck?

Leaning forward, Nina put her head between her knees and fought for clarity. Her stomach raged, roaring with dissatisfaction. Jesus, she was hungry.

Wanda and Marty were up and on their feet, hovering over her in a matter of seconds. Marty’s hand ran along her scalp with a soothing caress. “Nina? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I can’t breathe,” she responded tightly.

“It’s anxiety, Nina. God knows I know all about that. Just try and take a deep breath. C’mon, in with the good, out with the bad.” Marty’s suggestion made her that much more panicked.

Nina waved Marty away and sat back up, grabbing the hand she’d just dismissed, she blew on it as hard as she could. Nada in the way of air. “No, Marty, I mean I can’t breathe. Like at all.”

Marty and Wanda’s mouths fell open in synchronized drops, making perfect O’s of astonishment.

“Hoo boy,” Wanda muttered, sending Marty a wide-eyed look of holy shit.

“Okay, so let’s look at the bright side of this, Nina.” Marty cupped her chin and clearly forced a smile of encouragement.

Nina gave her a skeptical look. “And that would be?”

“Think of all the money you’ll save on mouthwash. You’ll never have bad breath, of course.” She flashed her teeth in another grin.

“Get the frig off me, Marty! I’m not breathing, you ‘look at the bright side’ bullshit artist! I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with you. I should be in the flippin’ morgue while you guys sob like babies and plan my funeral attire—which better have nothing to do with the color yellow, by the way. But here I am. Walking, talking and so hungry I feel like I could eat a herd of buffalo, except the idea of food makes me want to goddamned hurl. So what the hell do I do now?”

Wanda’s mouth thinned, her hands worrying the edge of her skirt. “I think we find the guy with the funny name from yesterday. If what those websites say is right anyway. He’s the only one who would know who can help us, right? He holds the key to our troubles.”

“It isn’t our trouble, Wanda. It’s mine and I’ll deal with it.” Yeah…

Marty gave her a playful shove, but her expression was disapproving. “Stop already, would you? Quit with the ‘I don’t need anybody’ crap. You’ve done it to death. If you didn’t need us, you wouldn’t be the first person to make the round of calls to set up karaoke night once a month. You’re not as tough as you’d like us to believe, and don’t think for a minute we don’t know that. Stop bulldozing through everything and let us help. You’re stuck with us like it or not, okay? So knock it the hell off and let’s formulate a plan, got that?”

Her heart would warm to Marty’s words because—whether she liked to admit it or not, these women who’d forced their way into her life via nail polish and mascara—had grown on her—but apparently, she no longer had one.

Nice. Very nice.

Nina clutched her thin shirt and nodded, letting the curtain of her hair fall over her face to hide her embarrassment. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you involved in something that might potentially end up hurting either of you. These vampire people aren’t exactly the most upstanding dudes, if what you read from the Internet is true.”

Wanda gave them a coy smile and giggled. Twisting a strand of her hair, she winked at them while bouncing her crossed leg. “Oh, I dunno, Nina. I’ve been reading some romance novels lately. Par-a-normal ones and I gotta tell you, some of the men in these books are downright dreamy. Alpha. They’re called alpha males and I wouldn’t mind having one—even if he does drink blood and couldn’t do brunch at Hogan’s on Sundays because he’d burn to a crisp.”

The thought of Hogan’s early bird Sunday special—corned beef hash and eggs Benedict for a buck ninety-nine—made Nina’s stomach roll with fierce indignation. She covered her mouth with a hand and gagged.

Well, it was more like hacked, because nothing was coming out of her yap but dead space.

Looking her friends square in the eye, Nina said, “Okay, so we find this dude. Good. I’m all in, but to do that I have to get past the Belinda-nator.”

“Who?” Marty looked down at her, tilting her head.

“Belinda’s Dr. Berkenstein’s receptionist and she guards patient files like they’re part of a CSI investigation instead of just a bunch of pictures of teeth. She’s a fucking terrorist when it comes to those damned things. You’d think she was guarding Fort Knox. She’s the one who has all the patient files.”

Marty looked at her thick, gold watch. “Well, it’s almost six now. When does the good doctor arrive in the mornings?”

“What the hell day is it, anyway?” Nina pinched her temples, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. Wait, did she still have one of those? Wasn’t that a vital organ too? Oh, shit on a shingle. Terror rose in a wave and she gritted her teeth—her big teeth—to fight back a scream.

“It’s Wednesday.” Wanda gave her a hesitant smile, oozing sympathy.

Crap, she’d missed an entire day of work and had never called in vampire, er, sick. Those bennies and paid vacations were going to be yanked out from under her like a rug if she didn’t figure this out. “Nine sharp. He’ll be in at nine sharp. If we get there about eight-thirty Belinda will definitely be there. She’s kind of anal that way.”

“Then it’s a date,” Marty confirmed with another one of her falsely cheerful grins. “Now go shower or whatever vampires do to freshen up and we’ll be on our way.”

“And don’t forget to moisturize,” Wanda chirped.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Nina said with sarcasm. “While I’m moisturizing, why don’t you two angels fire up the Bat Mobile?”

Marty screwed her face up. “Oh, Nina. The angels didn’t have a Bat Mobile—”

“Shut up, Maaarty,” Nina sing-songed over her shoulder, keeping her tone light to hide her terror.

Shutting the door to her bathroom firmly behind her, she caught sight of her fangs in the mirror again. It was almost the only thing she could see in her distorted reflection.

Christ, she’d better break out the big toothbrush for these bad boys.