Fashionably Dead (7 page)

My Guardian Angel smiled her approval and nodded her head. None of them could see her. Why couldn’t other Vampyres see her? I turned back to Venus who was waiting for my answer.

“No, she’ll be cool,” I said, following Venus down my driveway to her car.

I glanced back one last time at Pam, who had turned around, bent over, whipped her pants down and mooned me. I laughed and shook my head in wonder and disgust.

“What?” Venus asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, “life’s just changing really fast.”

My new pretty Vampyre buddy considered me for a moment, smiled, and squeezed my hand. “It’s all good my friend. It’s all good.”

Chapter 6

Holy hell, this was not what I expected. The Cressida House, which happened to be the most beautiful mansion I’d ever seen, was huge and overwhelming. I pressed my arms to my sides, afraid to touch anything. Everything in the place looked priceless.

“So this is it,” Venus grinned. “What do you think?”

“Um . . .
wow
,” I mumbled.

Venus laughed and led me through the foyer that was at least ten times the size of my house.

The home was grand yet tasteful. Dark, heavy woods gave it a masculine feel, but the huge crystal chandeliers and exquisite floral arrangements in stunning etched glass bowls kept it from being too manly. The grand staircase in the foyer would have been breathtaking,
if I’d had any breath to take.
All the rugs were Persian and I’m sure cost more than my college education. The curtains were thick and brocade and fell like water from windows that had to be at least fifteen feet high.

Of course, this was nothing compared to all the real Picassos, Rembrandts, Degas, Monets and all the other original paintings that covered the walls. I felt like someone had made a mistake inviting me to belong to such a beautiful place. I stayed close to Venus. My new Vampyre senses made me very aware we were not alone.

“The estate also houses a gym, a fight training center, movie theaters, a bowling alley and all sorts of other cool things,” Venus explained as we made our way toward some very large and intricately carved doors. I considered turning around and making a run for it, but Venus took my arm and guided me on. “The property is approximately one hundred acres and we have stables where some very famous race horses are maintained.”

These Vamps were loaded. Apparently, living for centuries paid off.

“The third and fourth floors of the main house have bedroom suites for those of us who live on the compound like me,” she continued. “The entire fifth floor is exclusively for the use of our Warrior Prince of the North American Dominion. He loves Kentucky and spends a good deal of time here,” Venus said proudly. “Come on, you ready to meet everyone?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she opened the huge doors. “They’ll love you.”

I gasped as she revealed a massive ballroom filled with the most gorgeous dead people I’d ever seen in my life.

“Hello, my brothers and sisters,” Venus announced grandly. “This is Astrid. She will be joining our House.

All conversation stopped and every eye in the ballroom turned to me expectantly. I wanted to die.
Whoops, already dead.
“Um . . . hi. Nice to meet everyone. I . . . you know . . . died a couple of days ago and I . . . um, think you have a really nice house and . . . ”

“Why don’t I introduce you around?” Venus thankfully cut off my mortifying intro and proceeded to walk me around the room.

I spent the entire evening in the grand ballroom meeting more Vampyres than I ever knew existed. Both male and female Vampyres belonged to the House. Some of them lived there, some of them didn’t. They were all very attractive and very nice in an uncomfortably dangerous sort of way. I was an immediate hit, due to Venus sharing the “shove it up your ass and pull it out of your mouth” story. Vamps seemed to enjoy things with a hint of violence attached. My horrifying opening speech seemed to be forgotten. Thank God.

“Venus,” I whispered, “everyone is so beautiful. What happened with Muffy and Paris Hilton?”

“Oh,” Venus shook her head, “that’s a bad story.”

“How bad?”

“Quite bad,” a stunning Asian female Vampyre informed me. “Back in the 1920s a band of Vampyres thought it would be amusing to
change
a circus freak show.”

“Suffice it to say it wasn’t funny at all. It was horrific and cruel. Most of them didn’t make it,” Venus explained. “They were given no choice and were treated brutally.”

“Oh my God, did they catch the Vampyres who did it?”

“Oh yes,” the stunning and increasingly scary Asian Vamp said. “They were tried and eventually put to a death as brutal as the ones they caused.”

Her excited smile creeped me out. I moved closer to Venus.

“Our Warrior Prince will not tolerate atrocities,” a pale, but beautiful male Vampyre said.

I noticed many bowed heads. It was like the Warrior Prince was some kind of god-King. Weird. This whole monarchy thing seemed a little outdated to me, but I stayed quiet. He was due to visit the Cressida House soon, and as a new Vampyre, I would be granted an audience with him. Whatever.

Some of the freak-Vamps, which was their term, not mine
,
still
worked in fringe carnivals, but most like Muffy and Paris Hilton had tried to blend in with society . . . some with more success than others. They had their own Houses—Lucern and Aurora. They had been invited to join the Cressida House, but decided to form their own instead. Neither Lucern nor Aurora had recruited a new member in over fifty years. No surprise there.

“Really they’re harmless, except for the massive property damage they cause everywhere they go,” a lovely dark-haired Vamp explained.

“How many are there?” I asked. Why did I find this so morbidly fascinating?

“At last count there were thirty-eight or forty freak-Vamps, depending with whom you are speaking,” a sexy Vamp with a Spanish accent informed me.

“Oookay,” I laughed, “Can’t Vampyres count?”

“No, no, dear child,” a blonde Vampyre named Crispin that looked half my age chimed in, “it’s rumored that the Siamese twins separated themselves, and being immortal, they each just grew back another twin.”

What the fu . . . ? I tried not to let my jaw drop on that one, but trust me, it was difficult. Even a couple of the seasoned Vamps looked like they had a tough time with it.

“I do find it interesting that you were changed without consent,” Crispin added, sipping on his blood-laced cocktail and making me uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

“Give her time,” Venus cut in quickly, moving me away from Crispin.

“We’re a secret. You can only share this with people you would trust your life with,” Venus said, leading me out of the ballroom.

“What happens if I slip up?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Revealing the existence of Vampyres is punishable by permanent death.”

Alrighty then.

“There is one other thing you need to know,” Venus said. “There are Rogue Vampyres in the area draining and killing mortals. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior.”

Well, that was certainly good to know.
Apparently there was no reason to kill a mortal to eat. Ever. This Rogue issue seemed to happen every fifty years or so and was
of course
punishable by death. Not my idea of wholesome Vampyre fun. I was to report anything unusual.

What in the hell did that even mean? Everything in my life was beyond unusual now. I realized when I’d left I hadn’t told them about Pam. Something had held me back from sharing every corner of my life with them. Maybe next time.

***

My house was too clean. Something was wrong. What in the hell was that smell? Pine Sol, bleach, and stanky vanilla room deodorizer? Good God, what did she do? I was only gone one night.

“Pam, where are you?” I called.

“In here, sweetness,” she called back. Sweetness? I am so screwed . . . she either killed someone and buried them in the backyard, or she blew my entire savings online betting.

“Pam, I’m getting a little queasy here,” I said, rounding the corner to my destroyed den. “You usually swear at me within twelve seconds of my arrival.”

“Fine, Assbag, get in here. We’ve got company.”

Please help me God, could it get any worse?
Yes . . . yes it could. Was Paris Hilton back?

Pam was alone. Thank you, Jesus. She was sprawled out on my semi-broken couch. Clearly the Vampyre fix-it crew hadn’t shown up yet. She was reading my email. I supposed she’d finished my diary.

“Did you have a lovely field trip, jackass?” she asked, closing my laptop and patting the couch beside her. I plopped down and curled up next to her.

“Yeah, nice butt by the way,” I said, referring to her moon and Pam cackled. “I joined the Cressida House. They seemed fairly normal for Vampyres, and I made a new friend named Venus. Where did you go last night?” I asked her accusingly, “I thought you were my Guardian Angel.”

“I am and I was here,” she replied in a serious tone that I had never heard. I looked at her for a moment and decided to let it drop. I also decided that this was not the time to explore why none of the Vamps could see her.

“Where’s the company?” I asked.

“It’s in your bedroom,” Pam smirked.

“What do you mean by
it
and why in God’s name is
it
in my bedroom?” I shouted. Shit, Pam’s love of volume seemed to be rubbing off on me.

“
It
has been sent here to teach you how to fight. Apparently the higher ups,” she gestured to the heavens, “saw you hiding behind the couch last night. We have come to the conclusion that you are a wimpy, pansy-ass Vampyre and you need to learn how to defend yourself. Not run behind furniture like a damn coward.”

“Are you sure you’re an Angel?” I asked, still totally amazed that this disgusting, profane, Oprah look-alike named Pam was even remotely celestial.

“Damn straight, Assbuckle.”

“That’s lovely,” I continued, “so my fighting coach is in my bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a male Angel or a female Angel?” I asked.

“It ain’t no Angel, baby. It’s a male
Fairy
!” Pam announced.

“He’s gay?”

“No! He’s not gay,” Pam yelled. “He’s a Fairy . . . you know, as in ‘I’ve got wings, and I’m really sexy, and I’m magic, and I’m hung like a horse’ . . . you know.” She looked at me expectantly.

“No, no, actually I don’t know.” I was getting seriously confused and quite honestly a little alarmed by the ‘hung like a horse’ part.

Pam continued again as if English was my second language. “Well anyway, I don’t think he’s gay. I suppose he could be. He doesn’t seem gay. I’m sure he was scoping my boobs and I’m pretty sure he would love to get down on my . . . ”

“Nooo. No, no, no, no!” I screamed. “Stop! Don’t want to hear it.” I flapped my hands against my ears to block her out just in case she was still talking. Her mouth wasn’t moving. I slowly took my hands away, ready to start beating my head again if necessary. “Is he sleeping?” I asked, my hands still poised mid-air.

“For shit’s sake, I don’t know. Go look and see.” She picked up my cell phone, began scrolling through my texts and dismissed me with her middle finger.

I marched down the hall ready to face whatever was in there, threw open my bedroom door and gasped. Not quite as ready as I thought . . . There on my celery green down comforter surrounded by my hunter green and cream pillows lay a one hundred percent buck ass naked Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Hello, my liebchen,” he joyfully bellowed with the full on Austrian-German accent.

“Hi,” I said and tried to avert my gaze from Arnold’s abundant privates. “I’m Astrid, and you are . . . ?”

“The Kevin, your Fairy Fighting Friend,” he shouted with gusto. What was it with all these loud immortals that looked like celebrities?

“Of course you are,” I muttered as he leapt off my bed and came at me with both arms extended with all regions south a-swinging in the breeze with a vengeance. I quickly sidestepped the lovin’ headed my way, which caused The Kevin to bash into my doorframe.

“Ahhhhhhh!” The Kevin moaned, grabbing his nose. “You are quick, my little strudel princess,” he yelled with pride. “You will be a good fighter! I think you broke my nose.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” I yelped. “Why don’t you sit down?” I grabbed a wad of tissue and pressed them to the fountain of blood gushing from The Kevin’s nose.

“And smart, too!” The Kevin mumbled as I seated him back on my comforter that I now really needed to wash. It was a good thing I wasn’t hungry. The Kevin’s blood smelled delicious, like hot buttery caramel corn and baked cinnamon apples. That would have been seriously awkward, not to mention uncouth, had I gotten busy and licked his face clean.

“The Kevin . . . ” I started.

“You can call me The Kev—all my friends do.”

“Oookay, The Kev, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I broke your nose . . . and you’re going to have to cover yourself,” I added quickly.