Fashionably Dead (42 page)

“Oooo, Astrid’s got it bad,” Venus sang as she pulled different outfits out of bags for me to try on.

“Nope,” I grinned, “Astrid’s got it good! Now help me pick out something to wear to the god-awful shindig we have to go to.”

***

“You are exquisite.” Ethan gave me an irresistible grin, taking in my fitted black Prada pants, the tailored white low-cut blouse made from a beautiful soft Egyptian cotton and the stunning jade green Armani raw silk jacket. I was determined to expand the Vampyres’ Prada wearing obsession. He took both of my hands in his. “I want to be very clear with you Astrid, I’m not happy about you leaving the compound. You will be careful.”

Why did I find his primitive he-man stuff so sexy? What was wrong with me?

“If there is even a hint of trouble, you will transport back to the Cressida House. We’ll have the place surrounded, but we don’t know how much Magic the Rogues are capable of.”

“It will be fine,” I assured him, touching his chest. I was unable to keep my hands off of him. I wanted to remind him I had crazy mad powers being the Chosen One and all, but was afraid he wouldn’t let me go. God, if he knew my secret. The King was right. He would lock me in a room. Of course, locking me in a room wouldn’t hinder my going anywhere. “Anyway, I want you to meet my big, sticky-fingered, evil sister-sire tonight at some point.”

“Fine,” he said. “See if she will join you back here afterward.”

“I want to meet her, too.” Gemma hopped up off of our bed and placed her hands over Ethan’s and mine.

She closed her eyes and muttered words in a language that sounded Swedish. A buzz of electricity shot into my hands and arms. Ethan jerked back and laughed. It didn’t hurt, it tickled.

“Ooo,” I squealed dancing around. “What was that?”

Gemma grinned, “I sped up something that will happen soon anyway.”

“What?’ Ethan and I asked simultaneously.

“Talk to him with your mind,” she told me.

“My mind?”

“Yes, you know, that tiny thing that’s housed inside your head,” Gemma said.

“Dude, that was harsh,” I moaned.

“Dude, just do it,” she laughed.

Hi Ethan, you have a lovely ass
,
I thought at him.

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. Oh my God, it worked.

Thank you, my love. I happen to find your ass riveting, especially in those pants
.

Really? I love the way yours dents in on the sides. It makes my knees weak and my mouth water.

That’s good to know
.
His eyes turned emerald green and he gave me that lopsided sexy smirk.
Unfortunately you’re waking up parts of my body that will demand satisfaction if you don’t stop.

Why’s that unfortunate? Do we have time?
I grinned at him, aching for his touch and then some.

You’re killing me
,
he moaned.

“Okay, friends,” Gemma cut into our mental foreplay. “I’m fairly sure I know what you’re doing.” She rolled her eyes. “But the reason I sped this up is so you can communicate if Astrid is in trouble. Not to have mind sex.”

“Whoops,” I said.

Ethan grabbed me and kissed me until my toes curled. God, I loved him.

“You won’t see me, but I’ll be there,” he whispered. “And later tonight I’d like to thoroughly evaluate your ass . . . and I’m feeling the need to have you handle mine.”

“Just your ass?’ I giggled.

“Definitely not just my ass,” he shot back. “Or yours.”

“Your Majesty,” Venus bowed her head, entering our room with an arsenal of weapons in her arms. “Astrid,” she smirked, clearly having heard our banter.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Your Highness, the rest of the Elite Guard is waiting for you in the foyer. The King, Sir James, Cathy, Paris and Samuel are on their way up here to get armed and then we’ll go,” Venus relayed as she loaded a semi-automatic.

“Would you ladies give us a moment?” Ethan asked my friends.

“Certainly,” Gemma said, then took Venus by the hand and left.

“Ethan, I don’t think we have time to . . . you know.”

“I do know,” he smiled suggestively, “but that’s not why I asked them to leave.”

“Oh.” I tried unsuccessfully to hide my inner slut’s disappointment.

“Come here.” He put his arms out and I fell willingly into them. His lips covered mine. His kiss was surprisingly gentle but full of promise. “Astrid, I love you. I never thought I would find my mate, but the Heavens and Angels decided to smile on me. Nothing can happen to you. I need you to be alert and wary of everyone. Despite your mother’s indifference to you, I understand your need to do this. Your heart is huge and it’s one of the things I love most about you. But there can be no secrets . . . not anymore, not ever.” He pressed his lips to my neck and a shiver of longing and desire coursed through me.

Damn. I was hiding a whopper of a secret from him.

“What are you thinking?” Ethan tilted his head and searched my face.

“About how much I love you,” I sighed, tracing his lips with my fingertips. “I want to tell you all my secrets tonight when this is all over.”

“Good secrets?”

“Good secrets,” I giggled. It felt wrong and lonely not to share this miracle with him.

“Until tonight then.” He held me close to his body, kissed me thoroughly and left.

I dropped down on the leather couch, amazed at how much my life had changed in just a little over a month. I was crazy in love with a Prince and my friends were Vampyres, Fairy Queens and Angels. I had custody of four adorably violent little Demons and I was going to do the impossible.

I, a Vampyre, was going to have a baby with the love of my life.

Every silver lining must have a small tear and mine was no exception. My mother had died violently while I watched. My father was a disgusting Demon King. And I was dead, but the good far outweighed the bad. I gently laid my hands on my stomach and wondered if the little miracle in there could possibly love me as much as I already loved him or her.

Chapter 39

It was ninety-eight degrees. About one hundred and fifty sweaty townsfolk stood outside the Town Center Hall in their redneck Sunday best to pay their respects to a woman they didn’t really know or like. Brad and Angelina must have advertised, because I knew these people were not friends with my mother. She didn’t have friends. She barely had acquaintances. I supposed they were here out of respect for Nana—or maybe me. I knew some were here just to be nosy, but I was truly moved by the turnout.

Martha and Jane were dressed up. They’d traded their sweatpants for tight polyester leggings paired with house slippers and some kind of shiny stretchy tops. It was hard to look away, kind of like a train wreck. The house slippers were hurtin’ me bad.

Niecey and Charlie and several others from my senior center art class held gaily-wrapped boxes. I would bet on my non-life they contained phallic gifts for me. I grinned and continued to glance around.

I smiled and waved at Hattie, who was able to attend because we weren’t at the funeral home. Then my gut dropped. The frighteningly-clad old biddies were marching toward me. I tried to run, but they were damn fast for old ladies.

“Sorry about your mother,” Martha snapped.

“She was a whore, bless her heart,” Jane added.

“Yes . . . well, aren’t we all.” I patted her on the head like a dog. This confused her and amused me.

“We like that Paris Hilton.” Martha got up in my face. I backed up a few steps to get away from her hot rancid breath.

“Paris likes you too.” Damn, sometimes a highly developed sense of smell was not a gift.

“She doesn’t own any hotels,” Jane informed me, touching my arm and coming dangerously close to my breast.

Why did they feel the need to get so close to me? Were they hitting on me? Please God, no. Their invasion of my personal space was unsettling and alarming. Why were they being so nice, relatively speaking? “Well . . . ” I backed further away. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

“Yes, like all homophobics actually wanting to suck dick,” Martha said, grimacing.

“Exactly,” I said, “just like that.” I grinned and waited to see what was going to come out of Jane’s mouth.

“All Republicans are hookers,” Jane choked out and turned an awesome shade of purple.

“Wow,” I laughed and quickly made my getaway as they slapped each other silly. Sweet Baby Jesus, I needed to get Paris to teach me how she’d done that.

My Vampyre entourage was blending into the crowd. How was that possible? They must be cloaked. They were far too pretty not to be noticed. Ethan was right, I didn’t see him or any of the Elite Guard, but I could detect his scent and it made me smile.

I spotted Gemma trapped by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jinkers-Pitt. Time to save my girl. I knew she would do the same for me.

“Astrid, please accept our condolences. You are looking lovely on this fine evening,” Brad droned.

“Get a load of that shit,” Angelina hooted, slapping Brad on the back. “He’s turned into a pussy! If I tell him to lick my shoe, he will! Watch!”

I watched. He licked.

Oh my God, what had I done? I felt sorry for him. Angelina was horrid and mean. Brad had never been mean. Stupid and chauvinistic and foul, but not mean. I looked at Gemma. She was as shocked and dismayed as I was. I had two choices . . . Green Eye Angelina and turn her into a lady or Green Eye Brad and return him to his former disgusting self.

“Brad, could I talk to you privately for a moment?” I took his arm and led him around to the side of the building.

“Hey,” Angelina yelled, “tell him to dance like a monkey. It’s hilarious.”

An expressionless Brad on autopilot began to spastically undulate and make monkey sounds. I was so stunned, I stopped and watched. It was revolting.

My eyes flashed green and I slammed poor Brad Pitt up against the wall of the building, effectively ending the monkey dance. “Look at me,” I hissed. “You no longer have to obey your wife. You have not been yourself for about three weeks. That’s over. You are now the same disgusting, good ol’ boy pervert you’ve always been, bless your heart. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” He was dazed.

“Good,” I snapped. “Now why in the hell is everyone waiting outside the building, Brad?”

He stared at me, confused and lost. Oh God no, was it non-reversible? My stomach roiled with baby nausea and guilt. Had I sentenced him to a lifetime of servitude, including shoe-licking and monkey dancing?

“Well, now darlin’,” he started slowly, but his leer warmed up. “There’s some hot-as-shit big blonde in there that I wouldn’t mind gettin’ down on, if you know what I mean,” he snorted and grabbed his crotch. “She’s a-sayin’ no one’s allowed in ‘til you get your sweet, tight ass cheeks here.”

Alrighty then. “Did she actually say ‘sweet, tight ass cheeks’?” I asked.

He thought for a moment. “Naw, that was just me complimenting your fiiine as wiiine butt.” He went to grab his package again and I stopped him with a glare that brought him close to peeing himself.

“Since my cheeks are here, we may as well let everyone in and get this over with.” I sighed, disgusted with him, but somehow more disgusted with myself for having tried to change him.

“We tore up that big photograph and built that there monument you wanted, sweet potato,” he proudly informed me.

“What monument?”

Brad slapped his jiggly thigh and burped, “I just love how you pretend to forget stuff, Sugarbuns. You are one hundred percent on the right track to gettin’ into my pants. A man sure loves him a dumb woman with nice tits. So you just keep that shit up and you’ll get a piece of me in no time.”

“Pardon me while I vomit, Brad.” God, he was a wart. “But what the fuck are you talking about?”

He cocked his greasy, bald, combed-over head, grabbed his package and grinned, “Why dontcha just come on in and see, schnookie-bottom?”

“I’m not referring to your pencil dick, Brad. I’m referring to the monument.”

He stood there and looked confused. Whether it was about his dick or the monument, I didn’t know, but I didn’t have time for this shit. I left him there to go in and get to the bottom of this.

Good God, what had Brad Pitt built? And who told him to build it? It had to have been Julie. Where in the hell was she, anyway? I quickly went in. On the far end of the meeting hall was a very large something covered in white sheets. It stood about ten feet high and about fifteen feet wide.

I tried to make my way towards the tower of sheets, but the room was jam packed with people. How did they get in here so fast? I picked up on snippets of conversations as I pushed my way through the crowd. Chats about my mother, my Nana, how much better female blood was than male blood, Brad Pitt’s monkey dance . . .

I whipped around.
Who in the hell was debating the benefits of male versus female blood?

I scanned the people in my vicinity. All mortals. Had I misunderstood?