Accidentally Demonic Page 5

  Nina rolled her shoulders as though a bell only she could hear had gone off in her head, signaling another round was due. “You got some set of gnads calling us fucking crazy. Was it us locked up in the big house after beating the shit out of an off-duty cop? No, I think that was you, mouth. If I were you, I’d be really careful about where you take this, ’cause it doesn’t look like too many people are lining up at your door to help you the fuck out. We’re sort of it.”

  Which had proved hugely beneficial thus far. But Casey was all out of energy and a verbal response.

  “Nina! Lay. Off. Don’t you remember how freaked out and scared you were after Greg bit you? Cut her some slack,” Marty chastised.

  Who was Greg and why was he biting Nina? In fact, how did he get close enough to Nina in order to bite her before she bit him first?

  “I was so not scared, Marty.”

  “Were so.”

  Nina’s eyebrows, naturally arched and dark, crunched together. “Listen, you furry, Milk-Bone lover, I was not scared—”

  Wanda slid to the edge of the couch. “Cut it out! Both of you. God, the two of you are the bane of my existence, and to think I have to put up with you and your constant bickering for an eternity.”

  Casey nodded in silent agreement with her sister. Indeed, an eternity was a long, long time. So if she were mentally organizing everything that had been said thus far correctly—biting, eternity, vampires, werewolves, were-vamps, and fur were responsible for their less-than-hysterical attitude toward her levitating.

  Wanda rose and grabbed Casey’s hand. “Look, honey, trust me when I tell you I know what I’m talking about. We’re not crazy, and whatever’s happening to you has to be something that has to do with the paranormal. Just stay put and hear me out. Deal?”

  As if escaping were a remote possibility when she was being held captive with a La-Z-Boy and a pair of Leggs. Casey merely nodded, seeking the kind of composure she’d needed when Lola’s video vixen days had caught up with her on the Internet.

  Wanda began to pace as she explained while Casey drifted, Nina smirked, and Marty nodded from time to time with sympathy in her blue eyes.

  And the facts were these: Marty, when she and Wanda and Nina were all Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics recruits, had been accidentally bitten by a werewolf while walking her teacup poodle Puffy . . . no, Muffin. That was it. Muffin.

  The man who’d bitten her fell in love with her, but not before she was kidnapped, had to adjust to becoming a werewolf, and learned to fit in with her pack. They got married. Marty’s packman’s name was Keifer—or Keith. Keegan. Uh-huh. It was Keegan.

  Nice.

  Lovely, in fact.

  Then Marty found out she was heir to Bobbie-Sue and skipped off through bright yellow fields of buttercups to live in Buffalo with her werewolf, pack mate, person of hairy origins who owned a rival cosmetics company called Pack Cosmetics. Obviously, someone out there in the universe had a killa sense of humor.

  They now had a baby—a little girl.

  Lovelier still.

  Then Nina, the ultra-scary, after quitting Bobbie-Sue because she’d sucked at selling cream blush, got a job at a dentist’s office. While prepping a guy for some anesthesia, the guy accidentally bit her, turning her into a vampire. Now she drinks blood and stays up all night with her husband slash life mate, most likely concocting ways to kill people and take over the world.

  But Casey didn’t want to judge.

  Then came Wanda. Her sister, so different from the woman she’d once known, who claimed she was a were-vamp. She’d become a were-vamp because she’d been dying of ovarian cancer and in the process of dying she’d met her now husband, Heath, who applied to her ad for Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics. And Casey had to agree with her sister when she said it was strange—a man wanting to sell cosmetics. But there was a reason he’d wanted to join Bobbie-Sue, and Wanda informed her she’d explain that part of this Wes Craven story later.

  Anyway, finally finding the man of her dreams at the worst possible time in her life, Wanda decided dying wasn’t an option she fancied, and she’d called on her friends to help her live—eternally.

  Because they could—being vampires and werewolves and all.

  In a rush of words Wanda fired at rapid speed, Casey had parsed out this: both Nina and Marty had bitten her because Nina thought Marty had done a shitty job of it, and it wasn’t working. When a vampire and a werewolf both bite you within a twenty- four hour period, the changes in your body overwhelm you and due to that, Wanda had become rabid.

  Or snarling and drooling, if you listened to Nina’s version of it.

  Heath, once a vampire himself, but then a reverted human, yet another story Wanda said was for another time, sacrificed himself to save Wanda. Because when you’re snarling and drooling, you need a human’s blood to set you on the path of the righteous. Ah, but when you sacrifice your human self, you also end your mortality.

  Very dramatic.

  That act of self-sacrifice on Heath’s part might have summoned a big, dreamy sigh from Casey if it wasn’t so completely whacked.

  While Wanda claimed they still didn’t quite understand what happened the night of her “turning”—clearly another supernatural adjective—Heath somehow managed to come out of it okeydoke. The theory being that some of his vampiric traits had lingered and protected him from total annihilation. Now Wanda and Heath were mated for life, too, due to some ritual involving a vein and some blood.

  So now here they all were, one big, fat paranormal meeting of the minds.

  “Casey?”

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  This time, she really had to rock the calm, but someone had to in the midst of all this lunacy. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s the fucked up trio that is you women I’m worried about. I find it sort of uncanny that you enable each other the way you do. It’s kind of cute to the extreme.”

  Wanda swatted her hand. “Casey! Watch your language, and we’re not effed up. We’re telling you the truth.”

  “In what alternate reality does your truth exist?”

  Nina popped up off the couch, lifting her sharp chin up to pierce Casey with her olive black eyes. “That’s it, powder puff—I’ll show you fucked up—so fucked up you’ll slink off to a corner and curl up in the position you were in for nine goddamned months. Get ready to cry for your mama when you have a look at these!”

  Before anyone could stop her, Nina hissed as her mouth became a gaping hole.

  With lots of teeth.

  Unlike jail, which hadn’t been anything like TV, Nina’s teeth—or fangs, if you will—bore a striking resemblance to the kind of teeth you did see on TV. On someone who was, like, say, Dracula.

  In closing, that was when Casey officially slipped over the metaphoric edge she’d been teetering on since this night had begun.

  And then she did what all sissified, namby-pamby girls do when they’re confronted with the suspension of their safe, warm realities.

  She screamed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nina clapped her hands over her ears. “Shut her the fuck up, Wanda, or I will!” she bellowed.

  Wanda gave a hard yank to the length of nylon securing Casey’s wrist, jolting her with the strength of a linebacker, and catching her full attention. “Casey! Shhhhhhhhh. Nina’s ears are very sensitive to sound—especially the kind of caterwauling you’re doing. Vampires have superhearing. Knock it off!”

  A fissure of pain shot up her arm and rooted in her shoulder. “Damn it, Wanda, that hurt,” she moaned, but it had nipped her full-on freak in the bud.

  With her terror semi in check, Casey sprung to action—or as much action as one can spring to when they’re being held hostage by three fruitcakes and some Leggs. Tugging back, she flapped her one good hand at Wanda, pointing a finger at her in warning. “You stay away from me, Wanda Schwartz Jefferson were-vamp! I don’t know what’s happened to you, or what kind of crap you’ve been up to with these two women, but keep th
em the hell away from me!” Wrapping her free hand around her wrist, Casey pulled, trying to free herself of the knot Wanda had tied like a Girl Scout.

  Nina stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it, looking to Wanda. “You do know she forced my hand, don’t you?”

  “Jesus, Nina. Leave it to you to find the harshest possible way to introduce Casey to the paranormal. Sometimes—no wait, what am I thinking—almost all the time, you’re like a bulldozer with a vajayjay,” Marty jabbed.

  Okay—she was out. Casey put her teeth to her wrist and began to tear at the nylons out of desperation, sticking her fingers under the tight knot Wanda had tied to try to free herself. If she levitated right out the window of this high-rise and sailed over Manhattan, it’d still be better than being in this room with these three women who apparently needed more psychiatric help than was available in the free world.

  Wanda latched onto her forearm and snatched Casey’s fingers from her wrist while Marty jammed a finger between her teeth, and Nina tugged at her feet to keep her at eye level. “Casey! Get a grip. Please. Relax. If you don’t stop this right now, we can’t help you.”

  Frothy saliva had begun to foam at the corner of her mouth, snatching her hand back from Wanda; she ran her thumb over her lip to wipe it away. “Help me? Help me? How is what she just did helping me?” she spat at Nina. Gazing at the two of them with hard eyes, she accused, “What have you done to my sister? What kind of sick psychopaths are you? Wanda—what the hell have you gotten into? Did you do that to your teeth, too?”

  “Oh, Casey. I didn’t do that to my teeth. It just happened when I was—”

  “Turned, right? Is that the word you’re going to use? Is this some kind of cult you joined where they use crazy catch phrases like turned and bloodletting? I thought I’d seen everything there was to see with the two undisciplined, spoiled- rotten brats I babysit, but this beats even that place called ‘The Dungeon’ they talked me into going to by telling me it was a cool medieval fair. So you know what, Wanda? I don’t think I’m the one who owes you an explanation at all! It’s you who owes me one because whatever you’re into is sick. It’s sick, Wanda—do you hear me? And if I ever get down from here, I’m calling . . . I’m . . . I dunno, but it’ll involve an intervention and a long stay somewhere tranquil with lots of medication in big syringes.”

  Out of nowhere, Nina threw her head back and laughed, right in the middle of Casey’s meltdown. “You know, I gotta give you your props, Casey. You’re sort of at a disadvantage here, and still you’re all feisty from way up there. And you didn’t even pass out when I showed you my teeth. I thought for sure you were the kind of chick who’d need a cold washcloth and a wake-up slap to the head. So I’m going to cut you some slack because I admire your stick-to-itiveness. So here’s the thing: my teeth are for real, dude. I haven’t had implants, and I sure as hell didn’t have them filed. I’m a vampire. Marty’s a dog, and Wanda’s half vampire, half dog. If you want, I can latch onto a vein to prove it to you, or Wanda can shift into her werewolf form. So let’s get over this ‘Oh, my God, you’re all nuts, what did you do to my sister’ bullshit and get to figuring out what the fuck is going on. In other words, suck it up, buttercup, and let’s figure this shit out so I can get the hell away from you tards.”

  “I can show you, Casey,” Wanda offered, her words solemn and low. “And I’m not a dog. Neither is Marty. There’s a huge difference between werewolves and dogs. Nina’s just rude and likes nothing more than to create chaos, as you’ve already seen. Now, are you going to lay off the crazy and cooperate so we can try and figure this out, or are you going to continue to go the route of cults and brainwashing? Honestly, I’m having trouble with the fact that you’re having difficulty believing us. You are the only one in the room levitating.”

  Score one for team bipolar.

  She was indeed hovering like a hot-air balloon with absolutely no explanation. She had to give that much up.

  “Don’t forget the fireballs,” Nina reminded. “Which brings me to another point here, sunshine.” She held up a lock of hair on the side of her head that had been totally fried not twenty minutes ago. “You did set my hair on fire. You did see that it was burnt like a forgotten hot dog on a barbecue on the Fourth of July, didn’t you?”

  Casey’s eyes widened. She had.

  Nina twirled the glossy, totally unfried black length around a slender finger. “Now? Not so much, right? So how do you suppose that happened? Wanna know why that happened? Because I have healing properties. All vampires can heal themselves when they’re injured.”

  “Well, unless they’re staked through the heart with something made of wood and their heads are chopped off in one simultaneous act of depravity,” Marty offered helpfully, smiling.

  Oh.

  Score two.

  “So how about you suspend your disbelief for the moment and we try to figure this out?” Wanda took Casey’s hand between hers and rubbed, warming the frigid tips of her fingers.

  “O-okay.” Her ears seemed almost surprised at what her mouth had just agreed to. Casey rolled her head on her neck to loosen her stiff muscles while stalling for a moment to rationalize. On a somber note, what choice did she have? Wanda was right on all counts, and if—if what they said was true, it explained why they weren’t running around calling on the Lord and throwing holy water at her. If what Nina had shown her was real—really real—it was only another piece of evidence to back up their story.

  Wanda’s smile was determined. “Okay. So let’s put our heads together.” She turned to her friends. “She’s obviously not vamp or were because none of us can levitate or shoot flames from our fingers. Though, Nina, you can fly.”

  Bet that’d piss Superman off.

  Hold up. Fly? Nina could fly. Panic began to rise once more, and it was all Casey could do to force it to back down.

  “Yeah, but I can’t hover like she does. She’s been up there forever like the Goodyear Blimp, Wanda. Did you guys see her eyes when she had her back up? Dudes, they glowed—red.”

  Marty gasped, nodding her head. “Yeah, they did. Oh, Jesus . . . maybe she’s possessed? It was sorta shades of Linda Blair. The only thing she didn’t do was spin her head around.”

  Casey blanched. Of all her fears in this lifetime—being mugged, losing a limb, dying a long, drawn- out death—she’d never considered possession had the kind of potential to make all those other things seem like frolicking on a white, sandy beach.

  Wanda nudged Marty. “Stop. You’re freaking her out. We’re just talking this out, Casey. Don’t panic—”

  Wanda was interrupted by the buzz of Casey’s intercom. “Miss Schwartz?” a deep baritone called.

  “Shit,” Casey whisper-yelled, “that’s Roosevelt. He’s the doorman downstairs. Damn it, damn it, damn it, if Lola and Lita are at it again, I swear, I’ll kill them. Wanda, press the button and let me answer him, please. Hurry, before he calls Mr. Castalano.” Oh, Christ on a skateboard, if he woke up her boss, the shit would fly.

  Wanda zipped to the door and pressed the black button. Casey called out, “Yes, Roosevelt? Is everything okay? Is it the girls?”

  “Right as rain, Miss Schwartz,” his ever-so-slight Southern drawl assured.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  To see her—or someone pretending they were here to see her but really wanted to see one of the “blonde-tourage?” The twins had pulled that crap on her more than once, using her name to sneak someone upstairs. It better not be that rapper with the gold teeth, or, given the op, she’d set more on fire than just his hair. “Who?”

  “A man. A big man, Miss.”

  “A man?”

  “Thass what I said.”

  “What man?”

  “A big one.”

  She sighed. “His name, Roosevelt. What’s his name?”

  “He says his name is Clayton Gunnersson.”

  Nina ran to the door, pulling Wanda�
��s finger from the button. “Clayton’s here?”

  “You know him?” Casey asked.

  Her glossy head dipped. “Yeah, he’s my husband’s best friend. Oh, shit. Maybe something happened to Greg?”

  Casey’s eyes sought Nina’s. “How could he know you were here?”

  “Grab your panties again, fruit cup—vampires can read minds. It’s sorta like a GPS, and if we need to contact each other for help, we send out a signal. A brain wave or some crazy shit, and if Clay’s here, it’s urgent. Unless you’re mated, vampires don’t send out signals unless shit’s going down, or it’s an emergency.”

  Concern riddled Nina’s features, prompting Casey to ignore the surreal nature of one more paranormal detail and urge Wanda to let her tell Roosevelt to send this Clay up. “Send him up to the back elevator so he won’t disturb anyone, please.”

  “Yesssss, ma’am, and you have a right fine evenin’, Miss Schwartz.”

  “Wait!” Casey held up a hand to the women. “We can’t let him see me like this. I’m floating.”

  “I told you, he’s vampire. He gets it,” Nina said over her shoulder, running for the door.

  So really, who wasn’t? But the worry written all over Nina’s face kept Casey’s mouth glued shut.

  Nina pulled the door open, stepping to the side to allow a tall, sandy-haired man into Casey’s apartment.

  Casey’s eyes went wide when he stepped out of the shadows and into the entryway light. Her stomach shifted to the point of discomfort and her heart began to pulse.

  Shazam.

  “Is it Greg, Clay?” Nina asked, her expression vulnerable, a stark contrast to the seething fury of before.

  Clayton Gunnersson’s eyes said surprised when he saw Nina at the door, but then he placed a hand—a big brawny one—on Nina’s shoulder, making Casey twitch with an odd emotion she didn’t know how to compartmentalize. “Nope. He’s fine. So, heeeeeey. Funny meeting you here?”

  Nina sagged against the door in clear relief. “Christ on the crap-per, you scared the hell out of me, Clay.”