The Single Undead Moms Club

  “So you’ve been in my head multiple times?”

  “And . . . I may have hired someone to hack the Web site to disable your ad so you wouldn’t get any other answers,” he admitted.

  “That is the least disturbing thing you’ve told me so far,” I groused, rubbing my hands over my face. “So you only turned me to save your own ass?”

  “It’s not that different from you seeking someone to turn you so you would have more time with your son.”

  Damned if he didn’t have a point there. I couldn’t help but feel deceived, though. I’d thought that he’d done something for me for the sake of doing something good, but he’d done it because it benefited him. It felt like that episode in high school when Hal Morrow asked me to Homecoming only to ask me to do his math homework the next day. He’d made me feel special only to yank it out from under me. Finn was an enigma wrapped in a riddle coated in misdirection. He was a burrito of dishonesty.

  Wait.

  “I did have cancer, didn’t I?” I demanded, sliding out of Finn’s lap. “You didn’t find some way to fake my medical test results so you could manipulate me with this insane vampirism idea?”

  “No. I’m devious, but I’m not evil.”

  “That remains to be seen,” I muttered. “So you’ve been hanging around because being in my presence is sort of like a booster shot for controlling your power?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not why I want to spend time with you!”

  “You know, you could have just told me this at the beginning. You could have just said, ‘I need a supernatural supplement from your aura.’ And I wouldn’t have minded. You didn’t have to put on this charming act, the whole ‘seduce the schoolmarm’ thing. You didn’t have to—”

  “This isn’t an act!” he swore. “I do want more time with you. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think that was the only reason I turned you. But I also didn’t want you to hear this from Jane before you heard it from me. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t told you already.”

  I stood up, putting space between myself and my sire. For the first time since meeting him, I wanted Finn out of my presence. Stat. I wanted to throw Wade up in his face. I wanted him to know that I didn’t need him in order to feel special. I didn’t need him in order to feel loved or appreciated.

  “I need some time to think about this,” I said. “I appreciate your honesty, half-assed and delayed as it may be, but at the same time, I don’t. If you need a booster, I’ll meet you at the bookshop, and you can soak up my rays or whatever for a few minutes.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “I’m glad you’re picking up on that.”

  “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you,” he said, rising. He moved toward me but seemed to think better of it. “I’ll see you soon.”

  As Finn disappeared into the woods near my house, I flopped back onto my swing, whacking my head against the backing. Ouch.

  I didn’t have the time or the emotional resources for a pity party. I was a grown-ass woman. I was a mother. Mothers didn’t pout. At least, the good ones didn’t.

  “I thought you liked Mr. Finn, Mom.” Danny poked his head out around the screen door. He was carrying a freshly popped bag of extra-butter microwave popcorn, his favorite snack since I’d taught him how to use the microwave. It smelled like sour milk and oven cleaner to me, but Danny was chowing down like I would never allow him to have hydrogenated yellow food dye again.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, despite the disgusting popcorn smell. This was what I’d dreaded, the idea of men drifting in and out of Danny’s life. Danny deserved stability. “I do like Finn, hon. But sometimes even grown-ups fuss at each other.”

  “Does that mean that he’s not going to bring me any more LEGOs?”

  “If anything, he might bring you more LEGOs.”

  “That would be OK,” Danny conceded, climbing up onto the swing and settling against my side. The smell of his snack was making me gag, even if I craned my neck so far away that I felt a vertebra pop. “So Finn’s the guy who made you into a vampire, huh?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You used the word ‘sire’ the other day when you were talking about him with Miss Kerrianne,” he said. “I hear Miss Jane say it when she’s talking about Jamie. So he’s like your vampire daddy?”

  “I don’t really know how to answer that.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “Yes, it is,” I admitted. “But no matter who comes into our lives or goes out of our lives, it’s never going to change the way I feel about you. I might make new friends, I might start dating someone, but you will always be first for me, got it?”

  “You mean you’re going to start dating Harley’s dad?”

  “Wha—how—why do you say that?”

  “Because when you look at each other, your eyes get all googly, like Madison’s stupid cartoon kitty-cat folder.”

  I snorted. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

  “And Madison says that means you like someone as more than a friend,” Danny told me, tilting the popcorn toward me. I shook my head and turned it so the popcorn was facing downwind.

  “Is Madison pretty smart about this sort of thing?”

  Danny nodded, his face solemn. “She knew that Mr. Brinker and Miss Hershell were going steady before any of the grown-ups figured it out.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter if Mr. Wade and I start dating; it will not affect whether you and Harley can play together. And it won’t affect whether Mr. Wade likes you. You’re a great kid, and everybody loves you.”

  “Except for Madison,” he said. “She says boys smell.”

  “Except for Madison,” I amended as Danny offered me his popcorn again.

  “I can’t eat popcorn anymore, baby. I can’t eat any food.”

  “Oh, OK,” he said, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he moved the popcorn closer to my face.

  “Are you taunting me with popcorn right now?”

  “What does ‘taunt’ mean?”

  “Waving the popcorn in front of my face because you know I can’t have it.”

  “Then, yes, I am taunting you.”

  11

  It’s important to take time for yourself, develop your own interests as hobbies. One day, your child will grow up, and vampires with empty-nest syndrome tend to be destructive.

  —My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting

  Being taunted with popcorn was not easier when the smell came drifting from dozens of cars. However, I had a very thoughtful escort.

  For our drive-in date, Wade had packed blankets for us to set up in the back of his truck, plus a cooler full of drinks, including a wide range of bottled blood. The Possum Point Drive-In had a very liberal policy regarding outside food, because there was no on-site concession stand. The owners had tried to establish a hamburger stand early on. But the facilities were overwhelmed by the local population of possums, which broke into the concession every night and destroyed everything in search of food. After several failed extermination attempts, the owners brought in Popcorn Pete, a retired ice-cream-truck driver who converted a hot dog cart to sell popcorn. Possums were less likely to hit a moving target. And the critters were a little afraid of Popcorn Pete, who was surprisingly mean for someone who chose to make his living selling treats to children.

  “You know I only drink one or two bottles a night, right?” I asked, marveling at the number of brands resting on “my side” of the ice chest. Wade was busy plugging in a baby-bottle warmer he’d rewired for his car-charger port. All around us, families and couples were spreading blankets in the backs of truck beds and settling in for an evening of old-school fun. The last orange-pink streaks of the sun had disappeared over the horizon as we were leaving my house, meaning the movie would start in just a few minutes.

  “I know you’re not going to drink all of that, but I didn’t know what you’d like,” Wade said.

 
“That’s adorable,” I told him as I climbed into the truck bed. I was in a buoyant, giddy mood. I’d woken up to a day’s mail that included a very official-looking letter from the local family court. Danny was to meet with Judge Holyfield under the supervision of a state-appointed chaperone in two weeks. The letter, which was addressed to my in-laws and to me, included some very strong language about appropriate adult behavior and following the court’s instructions. Specifically, Judge Holyfield wrote that he “didn’t appreciate certain parties ignoring previous instructions and certainly didn’t appreciate accusations of bias toward either party.” He made it clear that we would discuss that behavior when we next met and that any dramatic shenanigans would not be tolerated in his presence.

  While I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of having to take Danny to court, it certainly sounded like the judge was unhappy with Les. And I figured it was unlikely that a judge would assign custody of a child to someone who couldn’t be trusted to behave himself. And even if Les and Marge ended up with scheduled visitation, I would find a way to live with it. I was hopeful. Still somewhat romantically confused but hopeful.

  “I’m not adorable,” Wade protested. “I am manly and grizzled and have no emotions. None.”

  I rolled my eyes, lifted a bottle of Faux Type O, a sort of “Classic Coke” version of synthetic blood, and handed it to him. He dropped it into the bottle warmer and grabbed a Ziploc bag from his glove compartment. Inside was a bright red bandanna.

  “Are you planning to chloroform me? Because this sort of ruins the surprise.”

  “Just wear it around your neck, smartass,” he said, tying the bandanna under my chin.

  “Again, I appreciate your going outside of the box in terms of first-date gifts, but why?”

  Wade nodded at Popcorn Pete, who was rattling his cart along the row of cars, yelling, “Popcorn! Buy it or don’t, I don’t give a damn.”

  I watched in horror as dozens of customers lined up, buying their little red-and-white-striped bags of popcorn and spreading through the lot like the spores of a particularly stinky dandelion. That synthetic sour-milk smell seemed to be coming at me from all sides.

  “Here.” Wade gently pulled the handkerchief over my nose, and the nauseating popcorn miasma was smothered by the spicy, warm scent of . . . Wade.

  My mouth went from wincing to watering in seconds. It was like being wrapped in a bubble of Wade’s delicious scent. I was instantly calmed and comforted and crazy aroused all at the same time. I knocked the blanket out of his hands and hauled him into the truck bed with me. I rolled on top of him, straddling his hips as I lowered my face to his. And realized that my bandanna was still in the way. Wade laughed, pulling the red material back down under my chin so he could plant a hot, sweet kiss on me.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “You sealed it in the bag so it would smell like you,” I said, giving him an “aw” face.

  He shrugged. “You seem to like the way I smell.”

  “I love the way you smell, which on any other date would seem like an off-putting thing to say.”

  “Being thrown around like a rag doll by my gal is extremely hot but pretty damn emasculatin’,” he muttered against the soft skin of my jaw.

  “Well, get used to it,” I told him, turning his head so I could nibble at his lower lip. He groaned and rolled his hips under me.

  “Is that your vampire talent?” he asked. “Slappin’ guys around but lookin’ so cute while you’re doing it that they don’t mind?”

  I laughed and, realizing that we were still very much in view of people in neighboring cars, sat up, straightened our clothes, and scooted against the back of Wade’s cab so we could watch as the titles to The Great Outdoors began playing. “No, my vampire talent is very boring. I’m a stabilizer.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I suppress the talents of other vampires near me,” I told him as he wrapped his arm around me, settling my head against his chest. I tucked my hair under his chin, burying my nose in his shirt.

  “Well, that’s not . . . OK, yeah, that’s pretty boring. But how do you even know that you’re doing it? It could just be a fluke.”

  “My, uh, my sire told me all about it. He was the first one to figure it out, because I was suppressing his talent.”

  “How did he manage to figure it out when Jane couldn’t?” Wade asked, winding my gold hair around his fingers and watching it uncurl when he released it. I opened my mouth to tell him the story about Finn seeing me at the hospital coffee shop. But then Chet Ripley pulled his family car in front of the Loon’s Nest, and it seemed rude to keep talking. And even though I was watching one of my favorite childhood movies, I couldn’t help but wonder, how did Finn figure out that I was a vampire damper? I had never heard of a vampire’s talent being “latent” when he or she was still human. In all the reading Jane had forced me to do, the books stated that vampire powers manifested after the newly turned vampire changed. It seemed impossible, even with Finn’s special head-hopping power, for him to sense what I could do.

  Why hadn’t I questioned it? Why had I simply believed what he said, even when I’d learned so much to the contrary? Why did I want to believe the best of someone who hadn’t done anything to deserve my trust?

  Finn had lied. Or at the very least, he had stretched the truth to the breaking point. Again. I was getting really sick of Finn treating conversations like a taffy pull. I was sick of half-truths and shadows and meeting on his terms.

  And here I was, spending my date with Wade thinking about Finn.

  I was going to have a conversation with Finn Palmeroy. But first, I was going to watch John Candy shoot a bear in the butt with a shotgun lamp.

  I stomped through the lobby of the Holiday Inn and bypassed the elevator in order to scale the stairs and work off some anger. I’d barely been able to concentrate on what was a perfectly lovely first date with a desirable, extremely fang-worthy man because I’d been too busy turning over all of the possibilities in my head. I’d come up with a dozen plausible explanations that didn’t involve Finn lying to me, but somehow they just didn’t seem as believable, as likely, as that he was manipulating me. Finn was too charming, too smooth. Hadn’t I learned by now not to trust the easy path? Why hadn’t I seen this coming? Why hadn’t I listened to those warning bells?

  And because I wanted to catch my sire off-guard for once, I kicked in his hotel-room door and walked in without an invitation. Finn looked deliciously casual, stretched across the bed, going over some paperwork. He didn’t even seem that startled to see me busting into his hotel room like the cops. He just grinned brightly and hopped to his feet.

  “Libby!” he exclaimed. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  “Don’t start,” I growled, shoving a hand against his chest as he moved closer. “How did you know what my vampire talent would be?”

  Finn frowned, but I could see a flicker of dread in his eyes. “I told you, I saw you at the—”

  “No, don’t feed me your bullshit story about seeing the fragile cancer patient at the hospital and feeling moved to help her. Vampire powers don’t manifest in humans, no matter how powerful. Everything I’ve read says so. Now, how did you know I would be able to suppress your wonky brain-walking?”

  Finn took a deep breath and started again. “I saw you—”

  “Nope!” I shouted at him.

  “I knew you—”

  I shook my head. “Nuh-uh.”

  “I read your ad—”

  “Try again.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?” he demanded.

  “I want you to stop lying to me!”

  “Fine! Fine, you want to know why I turned you? I turned you as a favor to your father!” Finn shouted.

  The world seemed to tilt on its axis. I felt a strange, tight pressure at my chest and sank into the desk chair, my hands cold and numb. My fangs slid out so quickly it hurt. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Libby, let me explai
n, please.”

  Finn took a step closer, and I shot him a vicious look. “Don’t you come any closer to me.” He froze in his tracks, hands raised. “Now, talk.”

  “I’m a friend of your father’s.”

  I couldn’t even begin to give voice to all of the questions bouncing around my brain. How did he know my father? How did my father know about me? Why had he never come forward to meet me? Why had he sent Finn to spy on me? Why was Finn telling me this now? What did this mean?

  “If you’re making this up, Finn, so help me, I will find a way—”

  “I know. I don’t have to be a psychic to see how violent your reaction would be. I’m a friend of your father’s,” Finn said.

  “And his name is . . .”

  A frisson of doubt slid over his features.

  I bared my fangs at him and growled.

  “Max!” he exclaimed. “His name is Max Kitteridge, and for right now, that’s all I should tell you.”

  Somewhere, in a less angry, frantic corner of my brain, I remembered Finn telling me stories to comfort me while I was being turned—stories about his buddy, Max, and the trouble they used to get into. He was telling me stories about my father, and I hadn’t even realized. Betrayal, hot and acidic, burned through my chest.