Fangs for Freaks (3 page)

Read Fangs for Freaks Online

Authors: Serena Robar

Tags: #Vampires, #Fiction, #Horror, #Best friends, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #School & Education, #Friendship, #Fantasy & Magic, #Horror stories, #Universities and colleges

BOOK: Fangs for Freaks
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“Hmmm,” she said, looking at me speculatively.
Luckily, Thomas arrived at that moment so I was able to divert Piper’s attention to the house once again. I jumped up and gave him a quick kiss.
“Hi honey, ready to see my masterpiece?” I pulled the keys out of my pocket.
“Of course.” He smiled warmly at me and I sort of melted into a pool of lust, figuratively speaking of course.
“Piper.” He nodded a greeting her way.
“Hey,” Piper returned.
“Okay.” I started my grand tour. “As you both know I’ve been working with the decorator on the house, and though we disagreed a bit on the color scheme, things really took shape.
“Outside the house you’ll note our sorority letters”—ΨΦ—“which stands for Psi Phi House!” I couldn’t help but giggle again at the name. After all, how cute was I to pick out Psi Phi since it was pronounced Sci-Fi? A sorority for vampires called Psi Phi. Get it? I crack myself up.
I looked to my captive audience for their reaction, which appeared to be proper awe. Excellent. “Moving on inside the house”—I put the key in the lock and pushed the door open—“we enter the foyer, and directly to the right is our living room.”
I stepped aside, letting Thomas and Piper catch the full effect of my decorating influences. The walls were washed with a soft blush color, while the sectional couches were soft pink with a dark pink trim. To break up the monochromatic color palette, the decorator added accent touches of khaki, such as the floral print in the curtains and throw rugs over the hardwood.
“Well? What do you think?”
“It’s, uh, very true to the house colors,” Thomas said in a diplomatic way.
“It looks like Barbie threw up in here,” Piper stated flatly.
“What do you mean?!” I exclaimed.
“It’s pink!” Piper explained, as though talking to a child.
“Duh, I know it’s pink. The house colors are pink and blush. Sheesh, don’t you ever listen when I’m talking to you?”
She shot me a look that I interpreted as “rarely” so I addressed Thomas instead.
“Don’t you think it’s cozy?” I walked over and plopped down on the overstuffed sectional, beckoning him to join me. Thomas hesitated a moment before moving in my direction, careful not to disturb the vase of silk lilies next to me, and sitting down. Well, actually it was more like he drowned in the cushions.
“What the—?!” he exclaimed, struggling to right himself.
“That’s the style of the couch. It’s made to sort of melt with your body so you can veg.”
He managed to perch himself on the corner of the sofa, teetering precariously with a pained expression on his face.
“You don’t like it,” I accused him.
“I didn’t say that,” he started to defend himself.
“Colby, I want to see the rest of the house,” Piper interrupted, casting dubious looks around the room as though half expecting the pink furniture to come alive and swallow her.
“Fine.” I rolled myself off the couch (there is an art to getting out of a squishy sofa, you know) and continued playing tour guide.
“To the left you have our formal dining room.” My hand swept toward a room painted a khaki shade with a deep pink trim. The table was very large, seating at least twelve in a very formal setting.
“Why do you have a dining room?” Piper asked.
“Because it’s a house. Duh.”
“Yeah, but a house full of people who don’t eat food.”
“So? Everyone else doesn’t know we don’t eat food. We have to keep up appearances,” I said in exasperation. Piper threw up her hands in defeat as we continued into the kitchen.
This room was large, with a nice island in the middle and was stocked with the latest gourmet cookware. Sure, we wouldn’t have any food in the pantry, but it was a pretty nifty kitchen, nonetheless.
“Whose room is this back here?” Piper asked.
“That belongs to the housemother,” I told her. It was a moderately sized room, furnished with a bed, desk and television and its own private bathroom.
“Who’s the housemother?” Thomas asked, concern radiating in his voice.
“I thought I’d bring in a vampire slayer,” I retorted sarcastically. “At this point, no one. I mean, who am I going to choose to play the role of Undead housemother? I don’t think any full-blood is going to jump at the job, and I wouldn’t want one here anyway.” I looked at Thomas meaningfully. “You’re not a trustworthy lot.”
Then I caressed his cheek with my hand, smiling as I said it so he knew I didn’t really include him in my opinions of the vampire population.
“Good to know, thanks.” He smiled back. I caught a glimpse of his dimple and wanted to throw him down on the bed but Piper was in the room and Thomas—well, Thomas would completely freak out over my forwardness. Sighing deeply, I continued playing Tour Guide Barbie.
“Directly up the stairs is my room.” They obediently followed me to the second level. I had my own bathroom and would be sleeping in the bedroom itself. The other girls would be sleeping in the dorm room and keeping their stuff in their assigned bedrooms.
“Where do the other girls sleep?” Piper asked, after looking in each room and finding the group bathroom.
“Ah, that would be in the basement. I’ll show you.”
We had just started our descent down the stairs when the doorbell rang.
“But first, I will get the door and greet my fellow sisters.” I bounded down the remaining stairs, nervous and excited at the same time. How would it go? Would they fall over themselves in gratitude? That could be a little embarrassing but understandable. I mean, I did save their lives and all.
“Here it goes,” I said with a smile and swung open the door. What greeted me was a sight I was unprepared for, to say the least: a very large man, who didn’t strike me as a vampire, wearing an official-looking police uniform complete with gun and wooden stakes on his belt. His badge said “Tribunal Security.”
“Can I help you?” I asked nervously, glancing around his wide frame in hopes of finding my new roommates.
“Are you Colby Blanchard?” he asked matter-of-factly.
I took a defensive step back and replied, “Who wants to know?”
“I have a delivery for Colby Blanchard at this address. I need a signature.” He offered me an electronic signature thing that the FedEx people always had and gestured for me to sign it.
Totally confused, I took it from his hand and obediently signed my name with flourish. Maybe the Tribunal forgot to deliver something for the House? Perhaps a lovely, expensive welcome present that required security to deliver it? I perked up at the thought of an ancient piece of artwork to commemorate this auspicious occasion.
Buff Guy took back the signature pad and gestured to the street. To my shock and horror, the back of a relatively inconspicuous van swung open and two people were literally thrown from the back, handcuffed and bedraggled. A second security guard jumped out behind them, and with a third, who must have opened the door because I didn’t see him at first, escorted the prisoners—as I could think of nothing else to call them—onto the sunporch.
I gaped at Thomas, who wore a concerned look, and Piper, who merely raised her eyebrow in surprise as the women were prodded into the house.
“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded when I could finally find my voice. They were treating these half-bloods like felons!
The guy I addressed looked at me in confusion. “I’m bringing you the half-blood prisoners.”
“They aren’t prisoners, you idiot! They’re free. Free to come and go, free to live their Undead existence, they’re just plain
free
. Thomas?” I looked to him for guidance.
Thomas stepped forward and pulled out his identification badge, flashing it to the surprised rent-a-cop.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said, waiting for the guy to understand he was a Tribunal Investigator aka half-blood persecutor. Well, at least he was until the law changed. Now he spent his time training me and chasing rogue vampires.
“An Investigator, huh?” The guy motioned his team to bring the girls into the house. He looked around and took in the furnishings, colors, and then glanced toward me again. “Are you sure this isn’t an interrogation facility?”
“Interrogation facility?” I asked him quietly and Thomas put a restraining hand on my arm. My voice had gone very calm, a sure sign I was about to lose it. I’m in total control when I’m squawking like an enraged chicken but when I get all quiet and focused, that is the time to back away from the crazy blonde chick.
The guy must have sensed I was ready to spring because he decided to backtrack. “My orders were to bring these two half-bloods here and usually we take them to …”
I saw Thomas making a cutting gesture across his throat to silence the guard from sharing too much information; when I turned toward him, he pretended he was batting away a fly.
“You take them to where?” I asked again, my eyes still on Thomas.
“To a facility for interrogation.” The security guard was definitely uncomfortable, anxious to drop off his parcels and hit the road. I think he sensed a storm brewing and wanted to get the heck out of Dodge before it hit.
At this point Piper spoke up. “Where’s their stuff?”
“Stuff?” the guard standing next to our new guests asked.
“Yeah, stuff. Things like clothes, luggage, cosmetics, scrap-books, memorabilia. You know, stuff.”
“They don’t have any stuff,” he said, clearly confused.
Exasperated, I turned around and walked up to the girls, who were still handcuffed, and gasped in horror. They were gagged as well.
“Give me the keys,” I demanded and when he was slow to cooperate I looked him in the eyes and powered all my Undead mojo into the next order. “The keys, now.”
Instantly, he handed them over to me as though in a trance; when I snatched them away, he looked confused and bewildered. As though he had no idea why he’d given them to me in the first place.
I unlocked each girl and they immediately rubbed their wrists, but didn’t try to remove the tape across their mouths. Both were still cowed in the presence of the Tribunal security.
“I am so sorry for this …” I apologized to them as I yanked the duct tape off. It was obvious that so far, I made a crappy Protector, but I had the role of sadistic mustache waxer down to a science.
“Beat it,” I told the two guards and they immediately stepped away and headed toward the door.
“Are you sure … ?” The mouthpiece for the group was a little hesitant, obviously uncomfortable in our pink foyer.
I looked over my shoulder and growled in his direction. My eyes were aglow and brilliant yellow, my teeth bared with what I hoped was ferocious dominance. Sadly, I don’t have fangs like other vampires so I was sure instead of looking intimidating and frightening, I looked crazy and disturbed. Either way, the guy really didn’t want to tangle with me.
Thomas assured him everything was fine and they left.
Piper immediately broke the tension by mocking me.
“What was that? Was that supposed to be intimidating? Were you striking fear in the hearts of men?” She shook her head. “No wonder the guy thinks this is a half-blood loony bin.”
“You are soooo not helping.” I sighed in exasperation. All of a sudden, one of the cowering prisoners launched herself at me, knocking both of us to the floor. She was surprisingly strong, grabbing my hair and slamming my head into the hardwood floors. After a moment of stunned horror I rolled over and pinned her beneath me, trying to get her subdued and my hair free.
She was completely going bonkers, hair-snatching and screaming at me in Spanish. I recognized
puta
from my first year Spanish class (because really, the first thing you ever learn in a foreign language class is how to curse) and a string of other words spoken too quickly for me to grasp. All in all, I couldn’t really blame her with how she’d been treated to this point. When she managed to punch me in the face, however, I decided enough was enough. No more nice Protector.
Three
I
straddled her, knees on either side of her waist and, using a good dose of strength, I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her down into the hardwood.
“There will be no fighting in the crazy er, sorority house!” I screamed, correcting myself in frustration.
She stopped struggling as she fought to maintain consciousness. I rolled off her to get a good look at her and give her a chance to catch her breath.
She was Latin, obviously, if the colorful Spanish vocabulary didn’t give her away. My first guess was Mexican. She had great skin color, even though she was Undead. Dirty, tired and a mess, I could tell she was still very pretty. Voluptuous, much like Piper, but shorter. An Undead Salma Hayek. No doubts what the vampire who changed her had in mind.
I looked up at the other girl, who was trembling, trying to look invisible in the big pink room. She was wearing her pajamas with, get this, fuzzy bunny slippers. I groaned inwardly, praying she was at least legal age.

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