Fashionably Dead (13 page)

“I got hot salsa and the Warrior Prince is a formal taco stand. I brought clothes in shades of Black Raspberry Chip ice cream kind of melted but the stilettos should fit and it doesn’t matter how much blood you drink because you don’t have to wear pantyhose in the summer because if you get full they itch.”

They stopped and glared at each other.

“Oookay, that was seriously confusing, especially the part about the Warrior Prince being a taco stand,” I laughed, trying to thaw the icy chill in the room.

Ahh . . . nothing like laughing alone. Again.

“Okay look, I can’t deal with this shit right now. My morning consisted of getting my ass and boobs grabbed by an eighty-eight year old man while his wannabe gal pal made clay penises. That was nothing compared to the two mean old bags who took wads of laxatives due to an overconsumption of stolen pie. Of course they did this because they felt too bloated for their American Idol audition. They’re ninety.”

Silence. What in the hell did I have to do to catch a break? Time for a new approach.

“Gemma, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were four,” I said to a smiling Gemma, but before Venus could pitch a fit, I continued. “And Venus, I am adoring you tons, and really quickly too. Normally it takes me years to trust somebody, but I let you in immediately. I plan to love you for hundreds, even thousands of years.” Venus smiled and shot Gemma a
nanner
look.

“Hold it right there, little missy.” I busted Venus. “Don’t get too uppity. While Gemma may be mortal, she’s also something else. What
exactly,
I have no idea, but she could potentially be with us for hundreds or thousands of years. I personally hope like crazy that she will be. So we shall become a trio.”

They both groaned.

“That’s right . . . we will be the Three Musketeers of the Vampyre and Whatever-Gemma- Turns-Out-to-Be-World.” I clapped my hands three times and did a cheerleader herkie jump, causing both of them to gape at me in horror.

“Screw you,” I defended myself. “I was really good at those in high school. I have the trophies to prove it.” Doubling over in pain I muttered, “Shit, I think I pulled something.”

“Dude, that was twelve years ago,” Gemma blurted, trying to muffle her laughter. Venus didn’t even try. She just started guffawing. Of course, this gave Gemma permission to lose it, and she did. Which in turn, led them to high five each other and roll all over the floor laughing uncontrollably.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I shouted. My outburst only served to make them laugh louder and harder. God, if I’d only known that maiming myself would have brought them together, I’d have damaged myself sooner.

“Are you through?” I asked them. The joy they were taking in my self-inflicted bodily harm was starting to piss me off.

“Are you okay?” Venus asked, lying on the floor with Gemma’s head on her stomach.

“No, I’m not,” I said, limping to my couch. “You two need to get up and be kind to me,” I pouted. They both crawled over and sat on either side of me.

“Gemma and Venus,” I said, “now that you’ve bonded over my pain and humiliation, we’re all going to be friends.”

“Fine,” they said in unison.

“Actually,” Venus volunteered, “I’ve researched you, Gemma, and I’m aware of your love of Prada. It seems equal to Astrid’s.” I cleared my throat and gave Venus the eyeball. “Mine too,” she giggled. “I may have a little something in here that might interest you . . . ”

Venus dug through the bags, pulled out a beaded clutch and a black miniskirt from this season
worth a small fortune
and handed them to Gemma.

“Oh. My. God,” Gemma gasped, grabbed Venus by her shoulders and laid a big wet one on her cheek. “I am deeply, irrevocably, and materialistically in love with you.” I watched her wheels turn. She got even more excited, if that was possible, “Venus, what was your favorite food?”

Venus paused for a moment, surprised at the odd question, “Well, I’ve been a Vampyre for over two hundred years. When I was a mortal, food wasn’t very good.”

When in the hell wasn’t food good? She caught our gazes and looked down.

“I was a slave . . . food was sparse.” She paused and regrouped. “But I do remember grapes. I had them once or twice and they were delicious.”

Gemma and I sat in silence. My vision blurred as my eyes filled and I noticed Gemma’s nose turn red. Sure signs that we were about to cry.

“Stop,” Venus said, putting her hand up, “it was a long time ago, and even though my human life was hell, I avenged myself and my brothers and sisters sufficiently. Trust me, those who treated me and mine like animals died like animals.”

I supposed I was getting jaded about death. Possibly because I myself was dead, but I gotta say Venus’ story had a happy ending for me.

“I want to do something for you,” Gemma said to Venus and then quickly left the room.

“Is she okay?”

“You bet,” I grinned. “She is going to blow your mind.” Venus looked alarmed. “In a good way,” I quickly added.

Gemma came back to the den with both red and green grapes in a bowl, “Which ones do you remember?”

“Is this a joke?” Venus growled. “You are aware I can’t taste any of that.” Her fangs descended and her eyes glowed green. I was glad I was seated between them. Gemma wouldn’t stand a chance against a two hundred year old Vampyre. Come to think of it, neither would I.

“It’s not a joke. Which ones? Red or green?” Gemma asked without an ounce of fear or concern.

“Red,” Venus said, trying to calm herself.

Gemma popped a bunch of red grapes into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, “It works with Astrid,” she told Venus with her mouth full. “I’m guessing it will work with you too.” She popped a few more grapes into her mouth and wedged herself in next to Venus. She held out her wrist. “Drink.”

Venus cautiously took her wrist, brought it to her lips and bit. Almost immediately her eyes grew wide and tears soon followed. She took several long swallows and reverently released Gemma’s wrist, closing the wound with her tongue. Venus dropped to her knees before Gemma and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Gemma hugged her. “You can’t tell anyone. I don’t want a group of Vamps on my front porch with their favorite food in hand.”

“You have my word,” Venus laughed, wiping her eyes. “By the way, you’re only a small percentage human.”

“How do you know?” Gemma asked.

“Your blood gives me an unusual rush. I feel more powerful.” Venus was awed even further by Gemma.

“Do you know what she is?” I asked excitedly.

“No, that’s not one of my gifts. The only Vampyre capable of definitively identifying species by blood is our King,” Venus said.

“And he comes by . . . what? Every century or so?”

“Pretty much,” Venus laughed.

“You know what?” Gemma interjected, “I’m just getting used to the fact that I may not be what I thought I was. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what I am.”

“Got it,” Venus said.

“So,” I eyed the bags and boxes, “what are all those things for?”

“Don’t you mean who are all those things for?” Venus teased.

“Yes,” I said slowly, “that is what I meant, but I didn’t want to seem like a materialistic Prada whore.”

“But you are a materialistic Prada whore,” Gemma chimed in. Venus grunted in agreement.

“True,” I admitted, “but being one and copping to it are two entirely different things.”

“They’re for you,” Venus happily informed me.

Oh my God, somebody was screaming bloody murder. I whipped my head around to Gemma. Her mouth was closed. Venus? Mouth closed. Me? Not so much. Need to stop screaming now.

“You done?” Venus asked, tentatively removing her hands from her ears.

“Yes,” I answered, not quite sure if I was telling the truth. “Is there a reason for my windfall of Prada?”

“Oh yes, my friend,” Venus answered, sounding serious. “I am here to formally invite you to the Cressida House in the Haven of Kentucky. You are to be inducted and accepted into the North American Dominion of Vampyres.”

“What exactly does that mean? I thought I already belonged to the Cressida House.”

“You do. This is your formal induction because the Prince will be here. Basically it means you get dressed up in really hot clothes and go to a great party.”

“Cool,” I smiled, “do I get to keep the clothes?”

“You bet,” she grinned and continued. “You will be presented to the Warrior Prince at the Congregant tomorrow night.”

“What’s a Congregant?” Gemma asked.

“It’s a trial,” I answered her. “Wait, tomorrow night?”

“Yep,” Venus said to me and turned back to Gemma. “It is a trial, but it’s much more. At the Congregant Vampyres with grievances may bring them before the Warrior Prince to be mediated and those accused of crimes will be sentenced.”

“To jail?” Gemma asked.

“To death,” Venus replied.

“Good God,” I butted in, “there’s no chance I’ll get sentenced to anything by trying to become a member of your club, is there?”

“No,” Venus laughed and tossed me a garment bag.

The three of us started flipping through the Prada as Venus got us up to speed on the bizarre world of Vampyre politics. The Warrior Prince would also be adding to his Elite Guard unit during the Congregant. This was one of the most prestigious positions a Vampyre could aspire to, especially one from the Cressida House.

The Cressida House’s main function was to train Vampyres to protect the Warrior Prince and the Royal Family. The Elite Guard consisted of thirty Vampyres, but word had it they were going to increase the number to thirty-four, possibly because of the Rogue Vampyre activity. God, that reminded me, I had never told Venus about the Vampyres I saw in the graveyard. I was sure they were Rogues. If I told her, I’d have to explain too many other things that Pam and The Kev didn’t want me to share. Shit.

“In order to join the Cressida House, a Vampyre must swear their loyalty to the Warrior Prince with a blood oath,” Venus said solemnly.

“Wait,” I said, forgetting all about the Rogues and dropped a smokin’ hot strapless black Prada dress to the floor. “I thought a blood exchange between Vampyres meant they were mated.”

Venus laughed and picked up the small fortune I’d so carelessly discarded, “No, you’re only mated if you drink from each other. A blood oath consists of slicing palms and grasping hands with the Warrior Prince.” She paused, thinking. “It is intimate, but it’s not even close to mating.”

“Thank God,” I said, slipping on a pair of drop dead stilettos. “Do I look good enough to go to the ball and meet Prince Charming?”

Gemma giggled, but Venus’ tone was serious, “Astrid, you cannot make light of the Warrior Prince. He is the most trusted and sacred leader we have. He is fair and kind and very ethical in a world where that’s very uncommon. It’s okay to be silly with me, but that’s as far as it can go. You can get in unspeakable trouble for talking ill of him. Soon you will love him and honor him as I do.”

“So we just slice palms and high five?” I teased her.

Venus rolled her eyes and nodded. “The Prince can drink directly from a subject during initiation. It would be considered an honor above all honors. It is very rare,” she continued, “and has never happened in the North American Dominion and probably never will.”

“What if he did drink from someone?” Gemma asked.

“Well,” Venus thought for a moment, “among other things they’d be halfway to a mating.”

“How romantic,” Gemma gushed.

I rolled my eyes, “So our Warrior Prince isn’t mated? Is he ugly?”

“No,” Venus practically spit, “he is definitely
not
ugly. The farthest thing from it. He is beyond gorgeous and beyond unavailable according to one of his top guards.”

“Oh, so he’s gay?”

Venus choked. Gemma slammed her on the back.

“Oh my God,” Venus gurgled, “he’s as straight as an arrow. His guards are male and female. The top aide I’m referring to is a female.”

“He’s not mated to her?” I asked.

“Nope, and she’s been guarding him for over a hundred years,” Venus gossiped.

“Get. Out. Of. Town.” I laughed, “That man is one hundred percent available.”

“What do you mean?” Gemma asked.

“If he had wanted to mate with his security
female
, he already would have. I mean . . . my God, if I dated or schtupped a guy for over a hundred years without a commitment that would make me a pathetic loser!” I was on a roll. “I’d have kicked his ass to the curb after fifty years.”

“Dude, you are so right,” Gemma agreed, slapped me a high five and hummed ‘
Wanna be Startin’ Somethin’.

“Venus, don’t leave me hangin’, baby,” I said as I put my hand up for her to slap.

“You are one crazy Vampyre,” Venus laughed as she slapped me five.

“But you love me, don’t you?” I challenged with a big, shit-eating grin on my face.

“I do,” she laughed, shaking her head. “God help me, I do.”