Bite Me (12 page)

Who’d have thought salvation could come in the form of an eclectic, mostly dead, blood-sucking amalgam of anachronisms? “How about being called ‘Uncle Nat’?” I asked.
Nat flashed his trademark flamboyant grin. “That’s the best thing I’ve been called all my life.”
We spent the rest of the day helping Nat unpack and move in. About three in the afternoon Dad woke up and was equally jubilant about our financial worries being solved. I privately thought he’d enjoy having a man to hang out with after being stuck with just Mom and me for so long as well. When he heard about the proposed solution to his sickness, he looked at me gravely.
“Are you sure you’ll be willing to do that for me, Di?”
“Dad, I’ll do anything that can help you.”
It was a day of hugs, really.
Yet the best was still to come, and didn’t arrive until that evening, after dinner. Nat was regaling us with tales of his unofficial service in the Vietnam War when he stowed away on a navy ship and on arrival went out every night and bit enough North Vietnamese soldiers to take out two regiments. “So I was a patriotic menace,” he said, “and unlike Agent Orange, I didn’t harm civilians.”
There was a knock on the door, and I jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
Matt was standing there with a bouquet of pink roses.
“Matt?”
“Hi, Dianne. Am I interrupting something?”
“No, I mean, yes, I mean, no, I mean, sort of, I mean. . .” My mouth had temporarily become disconnected to my brain. I took a deep breath and mentally recited the first ten digits of Pi. “No, you are not, I am very pleased to see you, and won’t you come in?”
He smiled and handed me the flowers. “To make up for what happened on Wednesday,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have. Really. They’re gorgeous, though.”
“So are you.”
“What?”
His smile broadened. “Nothing, nothing. I wanted to ask your dad something.” While I stood there, staring at the roses as if they had sprouted out of my fingers, he went and cautiously sat down on the couch across from Dad. Mom smiled and went off to the kitchen to make purposeful noises, while Nat looked back and forth from Matt and me and came to some sort of conclusion, and winked so much that he looked like he was having a seizure.
Dad removed his sunglasses and gazed at Matt quizzically. Under this scrutiny Matt fidgeted and coughed a few times before Dad had to ask, “Were you planning on saying something?”
“I was wondering if. . . well, I wanted to know. . . um. . . would it be okay with you if I went out with your daughter?”
The roses fell onto the floor in a heap. I nearly did the same.
Looking inscrutable, Dad said quietly, “I think that should be fine, if that’s what Dianne wants. But–” he stood up and leaned over Matt. “If you hurt her, I’ll bite you.”
“I think he’s joking,” whispered Nat.
Matt laughed nervously. “Right. Of course. I knew that. Who are you?”
“He’s our new tenant,” I told him, flapping my hands to indicate a vampire bat.
“Well, pleased to meet you then. I’m Matthew Spiralli.”
“I’m Nathan Silver. The pleasure is mine. I think you probably want some alone time with Dianne, yes?”
I tugged Matt’s arm. “Let’s go back to the playground.”
He took my hand as we walked down the sidewalk. “Are you okay with this? I just thought I’d clear your dad first. No offence but he’s kind of scary.”
“None taken. I’m more than okay with this. I’m just surprised.”
“Why?”
“It’s sort of a Handsome and the Beast deal. You really don’t mind?”
“Do I look like I do?” He stopped and drew closer to me.
I put my hand on his mouth. “Just one sec. If you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do, promise me not to act like a gyroscope.”
“A gyroscope?”
“No sticking anything in my mouth. I don’t want to get too excited—I might bite you by accident.”
“Agreed. We’ll take it easy. This your first time?”
“Yeah. Yours?”
“Same.”
“I hope we get it right.”
“We can practice.”
And then he kissed me. There were no fireworks or spectacular revelations. It was just warm, sweet, and comforting, a hot chocolate kiss rather than an intoxicating wine kiss. Which was just as well, considering our ages.
When we pulled away, I said, “Won’t your uncle be upset?”
“Meh, he tried to break up your parents and failed, and if he tries to break us up he will too. Besides, I can always threaten to poke him with a silver spoon. Is that redheaded guy really going to be living with you?”
“What can I say? My home life seems to be getting more interesting every day.”
I don’t know how long we were out there or how much we said. However, I do remember telling him that I had learned a lot more that day than just what kissing was like. For that day I figured out some vital truths about life. Life is stupid, but I’m smart. Life is unfair, but I know what’s right. Life is full of changes, but I can hold on to what’s important, stick together with the people I love.
Most of all, life bites—but I bite back.

A half-Thai, half-American who has also lived in Laos and China, Donaya Haymond signed her first book publishing contract at eighteen. This followed a string of magazine and contest successes stretching back to when she was thirteen, incidentally the age when she began her Laconia series. “Donaya” is taken from the Pali Sanskrit word for “daughter”, pronounced “DAWN-ah-yah”, and it is “HAY-mond”, not “Hammond”

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Selene believes Ferdinand would abandon her if he knew she was a werewolf, something that isn’t supposed to exist. Ferdinand hides his vampirism from her for the same reasons, and must also hide from a world that thinks he’s evil. He’s just a melancholy English major who had a serious misadventure last summer. She’s just a college student with a bizarre family history. A comedy of secrets and a romance of accepting what makes us different.

“I have a condition that makes me, um, sensitive to strong light. My name is Ferdinand, by the way.”
“Ferdinand?” She had visions of German counts and friendly bulls.
He shrugged. “My roommates call me Ferdin and my mother says Ferdy, when she’s in a good mood.”
Selene couldn’t repress a giggle. “Ferdy doesn’t suit you at all, especially in that vampire get-up. What color are your eyes, really?”
He stared off into space for a moment, then said, “Blue...Your costume. What creature are you supposed to be?”
Selene grinned. “Nobody gets it on first try. I forgot all about the party until this morning, and didn’t have time to put a costume together, so I just came as a werewolf on the other twenty-nine nights of the month.”
“Clever!” he said, amused. “I’ve never seen such a good-looking werewolf in all my life.” “Are you flirting with me?”
“Aren’t vampires supposed to be oversexed?”

Romance author Mona is human. Ship’s doctor Fausto is a vampire. He can never be one of her kind and she’s afraid to become one of his. As they sail the Mediterranean on writers’ cruise, the couple is stalked by vampire hunters, and by Fausto’s notorious ex-wife, Lucrezia Borgia. Events force Mona and Fausto team up with the hunters to capture Lucrezia, but where can they go from here? With Fausto’s friend and Mona’s editor vamping it up and a hunter on the loose, can this bloody good cruise have a happy ending?

Mona forced a dose of cheer through her jangly nerves. Vampire hunters wouldn’t have the balls to attack Fausto and his friends on this ship. Security was tight. “Well, you’re here, so does that mean you’ve been going out, and aren’t confined to your house any more?”

Fausto shrugged. “Almost. I couldn’t wallow in self-pity forever. And I knew seeing you would make it worthwhile.”
She smiled and gave him a genuine Italian cheek pinch. “I’ll cheer you up, faccia bella, you can count on that. You must feel safe.” She gestured at the tacky duds. “I mean, relatively speaking.”
“Don’t let this scare you.” He glanced around over the rims of his shades. Uh-oh. Whenever he said, “don’t let this scare you,” it scared her. “I got an ominous message at the doctor’s office earlier.” “What-” She swallowed a lump. “What kind of ominous message?”

Luzan Kiowa has lived in the canyon all her life, but it’s never felt right. Leaving the man she loves behind, she journeys with a group of searchers to find her real home. She takes along with her the yellow stone given to her by her Moma Kiowa, whose ancestors took it from their homeland following a devastating super volcano eruption. The stone leads her to the home of her ancestors, but the place is not what she expects. Will she continue to live in the strange new land where life is easy, or will she return to the only Ameriki who can truly warm her heart and anchor her feet to the earth?

Moma Kiowa was buried at daybreak. Lozan selected a grave site atop the canyon walls, where Moma’s spirit could overlook the western horizon and watch over her when she journeyed again. Wind rushed across the mesa, chilling Lozan and thickening her tears into icy droplets upon her cheeks. Not a single petal adorned Moma’s final resting spot: the flora had already relinquished its life to the changing weather. Chanters promenaded around the grave, moving their ceremonially dressed bodies in a slow, graceful dance.