I'm Dreaming of an Undead Christmas

  “I know,” I practically whispered.

  “We’ve been dating for a long time. We’re about to graduate, and I think we need to start thinking about the long term, about our future together.”

  My head whipped up again, making my sore neck muscles twinge. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He cleared his throat and knelt in front of me. “Now, I love you a lot. And I think this is the next step for us.”

  He pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and opened it. A teeny-tiny diamond winked out at me from the depths of the box. I recoiled so hard you’d think the little square container was filled with spiders.

  What in the name of all that was good and holy was that? My eyes flickered toward Ben’s pale, nervous face and then back at the ring box. Clearly, I had completely misread Ben’s serious expression.

  “Is that an engagement ring?” I wheezed.

  “No, no!” he exclaimed, pulling the little ring out of the box. “It’s a promise ring. I can’t afford a real engagement ring now. So this is a promise from both of us. From you, it’s that we will eventually get married, and from me, it’s that I will replace this ring with a nicer one.” He took my left hand and slipped my ring-finger tip just inside the gold band. “So what do you say, Geeg? Want to be my almost-fiancée?”

  Despite the fact that this was possibly the worst-phrased almost-proposal I had ever heard, it would be so easy to say yes. Ben was so sweet, and he tried so hard to make me happy. He would be a good husband one day. My family loved him. He accepted all of their supernatural quirks without batting an eyelash. Where was I going to find someone who loved me enough to put up with my somewhat insane life?

  But when I opened up my mouth, instead of a yes, I said, “Ben, no.”

  I pulled my hand away and tucked it under my arm, just in case my no wasn’t a clear indication that I was rejecting Ben and his perfectly lovely commitment-based jewelry.

  I just couldn’t do it. I loved Ben but not enough to agree to spend the rest of my life with him. I loved him but not enough to make a marriage work. I loved him but not in the way he deserved to be loved. He deserved someone who would love him without “buts.”

  Ben’s face, already poised in a happy “She’s accepting” smile, fell into a confused frown.

  “What?”

  I put the ring back into the box, gently closed the lid, and wrapped my fingers around his. “No, I can’t take that ring. I can’t marry you. Definitely not now, and not later, either.”

  Ben’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “We’re not right for each other, Ben.”

  “What do you mean? We’re great together. You make me laugh, and I keep you calm, and we like the same movies and music, and—and hell, Geeg, you even changed your major when you realized you’re just as good with computers as I am, if not better. We work together.”

  “And all of that means that we make great friends, but I don’t think it’s enough to build a lifetime commitment. We’re so young, Ben. And there’s so much left for us to do. I don’t think it makes sense for us to dive into this so quickly.”

  “Quickly? We’ve been together for three years,” he protested.

  “And for the last six months, there’s been something off about us, Ben. I don’t know if it’s you or me. But we’re not the same. It’s not bad, but it’s not good for us, not like it used to be.”

  “You don’t just throw away three years because you don’t know what’s wrong!” He seemed to realize he was yelling and stopped himself, clearing his throat. In a much softer tone, he said, “Three years, Gigi. Why did we stay together all that time if we’re just going to break up? For no real reason?”

  “We grew up, Ben, that’s all. It’s nobody’s fault. It happens to a lot of people. Only about fourteen percent of people who marry met their spouses while they were in school.”

  “What, like you took time to Google ‘college students who outgrow their high school sweethearts’?”

  I pressed my lips together and cringed. “Maybe . . . I found it on Snopes.com.”

  Ben pressed his face into his hands. “Of course you did.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ben. But I couldn’t help but notice that in all of those reasons you listed, the reasons we work together, you never mentioned being head-over-heels in love with me. Or even a little bit in love with me. Don’t you think that should be at the top of the list?”

  “Of course I’m in love with you,” he protested. “I just thought that was one of those things that goes without saying.”

  “No, trust me, if you’re going to marry someone, that’s the sort of thing that should go with saying.”

  “Well, you haven’t said whether you love me, either.”

  “I do love you, but I don’t think I love you in that way,” I said, knowing exactly how cliché that sounded.

  “Not in that way? The boyfriend-girlfriend way?” Ben’s jaw dropped. “So I’m in the friend zone? Can you friend-zone someone after you’ve already dated them?”

  “It would seem so,” I said with a shrug.

  His face was more pouty than hurt. “Well, that sucks.”

  “I agree.”

  I wrapped my arms around my legs as Ben tucked the ring box into his shirt pocket. I’d expected him to be angry, to yell or cry or maybe some combination of both. But he seemed . . . resigned, even relieved that I’d said no. And now that things were more clear, if sort of painful, between us, I felt better. I felt like an enormous weight I’d been carrying around on my chest had been lifted, and I could breathe deeply again.

  Ben sidled up close, leaning his forehead against my hair. He kissed my forehead and sighed.

  “I knew,” he murmured. “I knew there was something off between us. There’s this weird space between us, awkward pauses in conversation and . . . ugh, I’m sorry. For the last few weeks, I’ve been finding reasons not to see you, like if I had a choice between hanging out with you or going out with my friends, I used to say, ‘Sorry, guys, I’ve got a date.’ But now I’m jumping at the chance to eat frozen pizza and play Call of Duty.”

  “I knew it!” I exclaimed. “Nobody spends that much time studying for a mythology final!”

  “I know, I know. I suck,” he grumbled. “I just didn’t want to admit that we were over, or close to being over. I don’t know what happened. I was crazy about you when we first started dating, and now I just like you. All of the things that I loved about you are still there, but they don’t make me feel the same way.”

  “And so you thought a pseudo-proposal would fix that?”

  He waggled his hand back and forth. “Sort of?”

  “Your logic is as flawed as the plot of Ghost Shark,” I told him, making him laugh.

  “Nothing is as flawed as a movie about a poltergeist Great White that can attack in any form of water, including a glassful that someone just drank, resulting in said shark bursting out of the drinker Alien-style.”

  “And yet we still watch it about once a month,” I said, chuckling. I touched my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry.”

  He put his arms around me and squeezed me tight. “I’m not mad.”

  “So just to be clear, we are not getting married,” I told him, sitting back and putting space between us.

  “Right. And we’re not going to date anymore?”

  “No,” I said. “I think it’s for the best.”

  “But we’re still friends, right? None of that fake ‘let’s still be friends’ bullshit where we only stay friends on Facebook and when we see each other face-to-face, it’s uncomfortable, and we avoid eye contact. You’re still the coolest girl I know. Not having you in my life is just unacceptable. Got it?”

  He held up a hand, and I slapped it hesitantly. I guessed the “friend zone” meant that we were now bros who high-fived. There were definitely fist bumps in my
immediate future. “Got it.”

  “Is this all an elaborate scheme to get out of coming to my parents’ house for Christmas tomorrow?”

  I cackled and shoved at his shoulders. “Yes, it is.”

  “I knew it,” he growled, shaking his fist at the darkening sky.

  “I love you, Ben.” I sighed.

  “Just not that way,” we said together.

  “Me, too, Geeg.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stick around for the Holly Jolly Undead Christmas?” I asked. “It might be more fun than Christmas Eve at your nana’s house.”

  “Gigi, what the hell happened to my floor?” I heard Iris yell from inside the house.

  “You know what?” Ben said, pushing himself up from the steps. “I’m gonna pass.”

  Relationships and traditions change over time. Whether you accept that change will be a huge factor in whether your family can maintain a strong connection to your vampire relative.

  —Not So Silent Night: Creating Happy and Stress-Free Holidays with Newly Undead Family Members

  We scraped up the non-lava portions of the sweet potato and the broken dishware while Iris and Cal debated the merits of replacing the floor with “Gigi-proof” asbestos tile. We managed to prepare the other side dishes without incident. I changed out of my food-spattered jeans into a pretty red party dress and flats. After the sun set, Jane and Gabriel arrived, with Dick, Andrea, Sam, Collin, Zeb, and the twins showing up in a motorcade of Christmas spirit.

  The slamming of car doors and the chatter were almost deafening, but I couldn’t help feeling like a giddy little kid. Christmas was here. My family was here, loaded down with goodies and presents and half-werewolf kids wearing adorable little Santa hats. (Dick Cheney was sporting his version of a holiday sweater, a “You Can’t See Where I Put the Mistletoe” T-shirt.) After all the worry and preparations and weird traditions, we could finally get down to celebrating. I took my usual place by the door to greet everybody while Iris remained in the kitchen. And just to enhance the warm, fuzzy family feelings, I was the recipient of hug after hug.

  Collin’s blue eyes were practically twinkling as he came through the front door. “Happy Christmas, Gigi. Miranda’s texts were very entertaining. Apparently, the two of you have already had quite the busy day!”

  “We agreed to a pact of silence, Miranda!” I yelled.

  “Doesn’t apply to boyfriends!” Miranda shouted back.

  “It doesn’t,” Collin told me with an annoyingly straight face. “Miranda claims it’s in the Geneva Conventions.”

  “Boyfriend? Still haven’t proposed yet, huh?” I whispered.

  Collin’s hand flew to his pocket, obviously clutching at a ring box there. His brows furrowed. “How did you—”

  “You’re not the only one with superpowers,” I said archly. “Now, man up and propose to my friend.”

  “Is setting holiday dishes on fire considered a superpower?” he asked, letting his voice rise to a normal level.

  “I’m never going to live this down.” I sighed, dropping my head.

  “Until Miranda breaks something or lights it on fire,” Collin assured me, his tone kind.

  “I heard that!” Miranda called.

  “Sam!” Iris cried at the appearance of the lanky vampire. He’d shed his usual construction-site uniform of jeans and T-shirt for a plaid button-up and darker, much dressier jeans. “Thank goodness you’re here. Gigi wounded my floor. I need some sort of emergency holiday repair estimate.”

  Sam turned on his heel and walked back out to his truck.

  “Did we break some sort of ‘friends of the contractor’ code?” I asked Tess, who was laughing into her apron.

  “No, he expected this. But he left his tool box and estimate kit out in the truck. He figured waiting to be asked would be more polite.”

  Sam returned with tools in hand, followed by Jamie and Georgie, Ophelia’s little sister. I’d only met Georgie a handful of times, as part of Jamie’s “socialize Ophelia’s somewhat scary little sister” plan. With her fat blond ringlets and sweet, doll-like features, Georgie would have been the cutest girl in the world, if not for the icy gray eyes that communicated her strangely adult “otherness.” When she looked at you, it felt like she couldn’t decide whether you’d be more useful as a hopscotch partner or a canapé.

  “Georgie, it’s nice to see you again,” I said, resisting the urge to curtsy as she shrugged out of her black velvet coat. Her beautiful green party dress combined with what I was sure were vintage Mary Janes practically demanded some form of kowtow.

  “Thank you for inviting us, Gigi,” Georgie said in what passed for her sweet tone. She handed me an elaborately wrapped fruit basket. “We don’t cook, but we order online.”

  “It’s a very nice gesture.”

  “Human enough?” she asked as I took her coat and hung it in the front closet.

  “Almost Rockwellian.”

  “Excellent.” She sighed. “Ophelia, do stop pouting on the porch and come in.”

  Ophelia stepped through the door, her expression sullen. She was wearing an outfit so painfully demure it almost made my teeth ache. A white, green, and red plaid skirt with a white cardigan, pinned with an enormous Christmas-tree brooch. And yet she still looked like she could very easily rip my throat out without getting a drop of blood on that cardigan.

  I cleared said throat. This woman was now my boss. And no matter how she intimidated me—or deeply, deeply annoyed me—I was going to welcome her into our home with what Iris would call some tiny measure of dignity.

  “Ophelia, it’s lovely to see you.”

  “Yes, Jamie said I simply had to come.” Ophelia sniffed.

  Georgie cocked her hands on her little hips and gave Ophelia a scathing look. “Ophelia, you’re being very discourteous to our hosts.”

  Ophelia’s severe look softened at her sister’s scolding. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m not used to spending my holidays with underlings.”

  The tiny vampire’s lips quirked downward. “I’m not sure that was much better.”

  “It’s all she’s getting,” Ophelia informed her, and swept past us into the kitchen, where she gave Jamie a rather possessive hug.

  “I’m sorry,” Georgie said. “She sees you as competition for Jamie.”

  “What?” I hissed. “Why? We’re just friends!”

  “I know, but Ophelia is very frightened of losing Jamie. He talks about you all the time, and he may be a little too open about his excitement about leaving for college. And so the perception of competition. The only reason she agreed to come tonight was that I insisted we participate in a traditional, almost human holiday celebration.”

  “Not much Christmas spirit in the Lambert household?”

  “Actually, Ophelia goes all out,” Georgie said. “She puts up trees in the living room, our bedrooms, the kitchen. Wreaths and tinsel and animatronic Santas as far as the human eye can see.”

  “Does she have a little Christmas village?” I whispered.

  Georgie nodded. “It’s horrifying.”

  “You’re going to want to avoid our mantel.”

  “I avoid fireplaces in general. I’m off to find Jane. It’s been months since the last time I saw her. I’m sure she’s come up with lists of new vaguely insulting nicknames for me.”

  I snorted. “Your Yuletide celebrations are not like our Yuletide celebrations.”

  “Well, we supernatural creatures must keep our dark rituals secret and obscure.”

  With that, Georgie skipped off to the kitchen, where I heard Jane exclaim, “Pocket vamp! I’ve missed you!”

  The following hours were a blur of turkey and blood (in a festive, holiday manner) and a veritable orgy of gift unwrapping. Cal, Iris, and I would exchange presents on Christmas night, but the “extended family” was
doing gifts tonight. We had tried to limit expenses by arranging a name-draw, but with the number of people involved, the amount of crumpled wrapping paper on the floor was dizzying. I had a hard time keeping up with who got what for whom, which was a shame, because some of the gifts were hilarious. Zeb got Jamie one of those awful beer-drinking hats, only it was set up for “sipping” from two helmet-mounted blood bags. Tess gave Iris several bottles of a blood-liquor mixture she promised would taste like German chocolate cake. Sam got Miranda a product he found on the Internet that claimed to remove any stain from any surface. Collin was more excited about that than Miranda was, considering the number of his possessions she had damaged with red wine and/or motor oil. The twins and Georgie got presents from everybody, because we couldn’t resist the urge to buy toys for children. (Or child-shaped vampires.)

  When Jane was supposed to get her present from Dick, he grinned like a psychotic TV presenter and bounded off the couch, headed toward the front door. “Come on!”

  “He’s been waiting for this for six months,” Andrea told Jane.

  With a quizzical expression, Jane slid off the couch and led the rest of us to the porch. Dick was standing in the driveway in front of a hollow pink plastic ball, big enough that an adult could crawl inside the little hatch door and roll around in it.

  “What the heck?” Tess exclaimed.

  “You finally did it!” Gabriel hooted, bracing himself against his knees as he guffawed. Jane buried her face in her hands, but she was laughing so hard that faintly pink tear tracks fell down her cheeks.

  “I don’t get it,” Cal said.

  Jane wiped at her eyes. “Dick has been threatening to put me in a human-sized hamster ball for years. For my own protection, of course.”

  “It’s more of a gift for Gabriel than for you, but I think it still counts,” Dick said.

  Jane giggled.

  Sam inspected the hatch door and gave the ball a little push. “How did you even find one?”

  “I know a guy,” Dick said with a shrug.

  Gabriel rolled his eyes but clapped his friend on the back. “Of course you do.”