FANGED

Chapter Thirty-Three

Finally breaking the weird trance I was suffering from with a shake of my head, I reached out to snatch the card off the table and ended up playing a game of Slap Jack with Fang as he also made a grab for it. Little did he know, I was a Slap Jack champion from way back, plus...I was also well known for my proclivity to cheating and the victory was easily mine. Giving him a smug grin, I tucked the card into my back pocket.

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing to two tiny icy slits. "Do not tell me you are even considering giving him a call." His lips twisted in displeasure.

I shrugged noncommittally. Actually, I didn't think he was the type of guy you called. You didn't just ring up a guy like that on the phone. You drew a pentagram on the floor surrounded with candles, did some chanting and conjured him up.

"He's dangerous, Red." He took a deep breath and leaned across the table. "You know who he is and what he is capable of doing."

Well...duh! I didn't need a flip-book to remind me of what had happened to poor Aurora. But, unlike her, I wasn't looking for a date. I needed answers and if I couldn't get them from the stoic vampire sitting across from me, then I would get them from the devil himself if I had to.

"He will slowly torture you until you beg for death..."

I rolled my eyes and held up my hand to stop him. "Don't start with me and your doom and gloom speech. I could not be less in the mood for it."

"It's the truth," he snapped. "Nothing good will come from it. You will only be endangering yourself and others who wish to protect you. You know what side you need to be on, Red and it's not with Stoker."

He gave me far too much credit. I didn't know crap-o-la about what was going on or why there was even a side that I needed to choose. I only knew the bits and pieces I had picked up like loose marbles along the way. For one thing, I had certainly learned the only person on the planet who seemed the least bit interested in saving my undead butt, was Fang. The rest of the vampires, I looked over at Courtanya who made a slitting motion across her throat, and minions...wanted me permanently six feet under.

I also knew the man whose number was currently burning a hole in my backside and oddly enough, had an area code of 666...was ultimately responsible for my present vampire condition, but I didn't know the reason behind it. Why? Why am I here? How did he manage to do something the rest of the vampire community considered a fundamental sin? Why did it seem like everyone and their brother wanted to kill me? Why did I get the feeling I was in the middle of some kind of sick game of tug-of-war where the only loser was me? And where the hell were my waffles?

"She is of low intelligence, your Majesty. She is incapable of understanding," Courtanya threw her two cents worth in, rousing herself out of her earlier subdued silence. "You need to listen to my Mistress. Kill her before she kills us all." With that, she leaned in and wrapped her lips around her straw, draining the glass of soda down in record time.

"I. Will. Not. Kill. Her."

"You. Need. To." Courtanya hissed back before she let out a burp a truck driver would have been proud of. A look of pure horror passing over her face as she frowned down at the now empty glass.

"Why. Are we. Talking. Like this?" I asked, forcing a laugh into a cough at Bubbles as she tried to figure out the mystical powers of carbonation. This was not the time to find entertainment in bodily functions. Even though, judging by the way her eyes were watering, that burp must have been a real nose burner.

Fang continued to glare at me from across the table. I bet he never made a pull my finger joke in all of his years of wandering on this Earth.

"Here we go!" Brittany broke the stare standoff happening at the table with her perky presence. Obviously, her earlier fear long forgotten as she gawked at Fang. I swear I could hear her I.Q. dropping as he gave her a tight lipped smile and thanked her.