Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire by Michele Bardsley Page B
Authors: Michele Bardsley
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was to know Johnny was loose in Broken Heart chasing Lucifer down, I was grateful that his temper tantrum had shaken Tamara out of unconsciousness.
"Mom," she said, staring at my mouth, "you're getting all fangy. Did you have breakfast yet?"
"I can take care of that," said Jessica.
I leaned down and kissed Tamara on the forehead. "I'll be right back. Eat more ice chips."
She rolled her eyes, but dutifully put another spoonful into her mouth.
Jessica led me into the empty hallway and offered her wrist. I held onto her arm and pressed the pulse point against my mouth. Other than that first drink from Mortie, I had never supped on another vampire. I didn't know if it was the fact that Jessica and Patrick noshed on each other or that she was from a different Family, but her blood tasted different—sweet even. After I was finished, I said, "I feel like I drank chocolate."
"Our donors eat a lot of Godivas," she said, grinning.
We returned to the room. Tamara's gaze was all over the vampire twins and Damian. Damian was kneeling and fingering the bent door hinge. Patrick was arguing with Lor in Gaelic, so I couldn't understand a word.
"Those dudes are hot," announced Tamara.
Both Lor and Patrick shut up and turned to stare at her. Damian looked up and grinned wolfishly. My daughter's face went bright red.
She drew the sheet over her head, muttering, "You can stake me now."
Laughing, I tugged the sheet down. "If you think they're cute, wait until you see the guy who rescued you. He looks like somebody peeled him off the pages of a manga book. His name is Durriken."
"Yeah, well… I guess I'll have to thank him," she said with a slight shrug. I knew my daughter—she was pretending disinterest, but she'd darn well anticipate meeting the guy. Although I wasn't sure that introducing her to a boy who probably knew seven hundred ways to kill was a good idea. Then again, who better to protect her?
"How do you know it's raining cats and dogs?" I asked Jessica.
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Jessica blinked. "Um… I dunno."
"When you step in a poodle," Tamara answered. "How do you get a bull to stop charging?"
I snickered. "You take away his credit card. What did the cow say to the horse?"
"Hot damn! I know this one!" Jessica did a drumroll on the side of the bed. "He said… why the long face?"
We cracked up. Yes, it was silly to giggle over such crappy jokes, but it had always been a surefire way to lighten our emotional loads. My mother had started the Bad Joke tradition when she lay dying in the hospital, her cancer too far along to cure.
Patrick joined us. He put his arm around Jessica and kissed the top of her head. They looked like someone had smacked 'em with a happy hammer. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to know that kind of love. Those two always looked… aglow , for lack of a better word.
"Why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?" asked Patrick, his silver eyes twinkling.
"Oh, do tell," said Jessica.
"To make up for a lousy summer."
We all groaned.
"And I thought our jokes were goofy," said Tamara. She smiled, though, and I knew she was mentally adding it to our List o' Lame Laughs. She glanced at me. "I must admit Patrick's joke tickled my risibles."
"Your what-ables?" asked Jess.
"Risibles," I repeated. "It means one's sense of humor or one's sense of the ridiculous." I grinned proudly. "Darn it! Another ten-pointer! How did you remember the word of the day?"
I explained to Jessica how Tamara and I kept a word-of-the-day list and the rules of our little game.
Jessica looked at me speculatively. "You knew Faustus was a cent-a-thing just from the mind pic he sent you."
"He was a centurion, or centurio . They were professional officers in the Roman army that commanded between sixty and one hundred sixty men—known as a century."
"Or centuria ," added Tamara. "Was he carrying a vitus ?"
I nodded. "That's a short staff, or vine stave ,
"Mom," she said, staring at my mouth, "you're getting all fangy. Did you have breakfast yet?"
"I can take care of that," said Jessica.
I leaned down and kissed Tamara on the forehead. "I'll be right back. Eat more ice chips."
She rolled her eyes, but dutifully put another spoonful into her mouth.
Jessica led me into the empty hallway and offered her wrist. I held onto her arm and pressed the pulse point against my mouth. Other than that first drink from Mortie, I had never supped on another vampire. I didn't know if it was the fact that Jessica and Patrick noshed on each other or that she was from a different Family, but her blood tasted different—sweet even. After I was finished, I said, "I feel like I drank chocolate."
"Our donors eat a lot of Godivas," she said, grinning.
We returned to the room. Tamara's gaze was all over the vampire twins and Damian. Damian was kneeling and fingering the bent door hinge. Patrick was arguing with Lor in Gaelic, so I couldn't understand a word.
"Those dudes are hot," announced Tamara.
Both Lor and Patrick shut up and turned to stare at her. Damian looked up and grinned wolfishly. My daughter's face went bright red.
She drew the sheet over her head, muttering, "You can stake me now."
Laughing, I tugged the sheet down. "If you think they're cute, wait until you see the guy who rescued you. He looks like somebody peeled him off the pages of a manga book. His name is Durriken."
"Yeah, well… I guess I'll have to thank him," she said with a slight shrug. I knew my daughter—she was pretending disinterest, but she'd darn well anticipate meeting the guy. Although I wasn't sure that introducing her to a boy who probably knew seven hundred ways to kill was a good idea. Then again, who better to protect her?
"How do you know it's raining cats and dogs?" I asked Jessica.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Jessica blinked. "Um… I dunno."
"When you step in a poodle," Tamara answered. "How do you get a bull to stop charging?"
I snickered. "You take away his credit card. What did the cow say to the horse?"
"Hot damn! I know this one!" Jessica did a drumroll on the side of the bed. "He said… why the long face?"
We cracked up. Yes, it was silly to giggle over such crappy jokes, but it had always been a surefire way to lighten our emotional loads. My mother had started the Bad Joke tradition when she lay dying in the hospital, her cancer too far along to cure.
Patrick joined us. He put his arm around Jessica and kissed the top of her head. They looked like someone had smacked 'em with a happy hammer. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to know that kind of love. Those two always looked… aglow , for lack of a better word.
"Why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?" asked Patrick, his silver eyes twinkling.
"Oh, do tell," said Jessica.
"To make up for a lousy summer."
We all groaned.
"And I thought our jokes were goofy," said Tamara. She smiled, though, and I knew she was mentally adding it to our List o' Lame Laughs. She glanced at me. "I must admit Patrick's joke tickled my risibles."
"Your what-ables?" asked Jess.
"Risibles," I repeated. "It means one's sense of humor or one's sense of the ridiculous." I grinned proudly. "Darn it! Another ten-pointer! How did you remember the word of the day?"
I explained to Jessica how Tamara and I kept a word-of-the-day list and the rules of our little game.
Jessica looked at me speculatively. "You knew Faustus was a cent-a-thing just from the mind pic he sent you."
"He was a centurion, or centurio . They were professional officers in the Roman army that commanded between sixty and one hundred sixty men—known as a century."
"Or centuria ," added Tamara. "Was he carrying a vitus ?"
I nodded. "That's a short staff, or vine stave ,
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