Under Wraps

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up with a start, and Nina was sitting cross-legged on my windowsill, her bone-white back pressed up against the window glass.

“Who’s the tasty morsel on the couch?” she said when I opened my eyes.

I yawned. “That’s the detective from SFPD.”

Nina opened her mouth, the tip of her pink tongue touching one of her razor-sharp incisors. “I thought he smelled familiar!” Her red lips curved up into a sly grin and I shot her a look. Nina held up both hands and wagged her head. “Reformed, remember? Whew.” She checked out her cuticles. “I knew you loved him.”

“I don’t love Parker Hayes,” I said, kicking aside the covers and standing up. “And what are you doing in here anyway?”

Nina shrugged. “Dirt was dead. The general manager took off about a week ago—and their bloodstock is going low. They only had O pos on tap. And, there’s a man-lump sleeping on our couch. Where else was I supposed to go?”

I rubbed my eyes and stared at the dawn as it broke outside my bedroom window.

“Is Vlad here?”

Nina shook her head. “Nah. He met a two-hundred-year-old fifteen-year-old girl. Last I checked they were staring morbidly at each other and talking about how everyone sucks.”

“Sounds fascinating. Ugh. I need coffee,” I mumbled.

I carefully opened my bedroom door and tiptoed into the living room, where Parker was sprawled on the couch, his breathing a low whoosh in the dim, silent room.

“He’s cute,” Nina said, grinning over my shoulder.

I looked back at Parker, at the blanket wrapped around him.

“Coffee,” I said again. But I was having a hard time stopping my eyes from wandering back to Parker, to his chiseled chest, toward the blanket twisted over his …

Wasn’t he wearing anything?

“Really cute.” Nina was licking her lips in a delicious snack kind of way, and suddenly my dry mouth started to water.

I could make a meal out of Parker Hayes myself.

I eyed Parker’s blanket, partially rumpled over his nearly hairless chest, as it rhythmically rose and fell. The sheet dropped open at his naval, exposing a delicate trail of black hair, and then was rumpled and folded again, covering him up.

Nina narrowed her eyes. “Stupid blanket.”

“Ahem.”

Nina and I both jumped, and Parker blinked sleepily at us, his face breaking into an amused smile.

“Oh. Parker,” I said, looking at Nina. “This is my roommate, Nina.”

She wriggled her fingers in greeting. “I remember you!” she sang.

“We were just—and you were just—” I stumbled.

Parker arched up on one elbow, his shoulder and pectoral muscles flexing. If Nina had any breath, I’m sure she would have sucked it in like I did.

“Do you want some breakfast? What do you like to eat?” I turned on my heel and raced for the kitchen, pawing through the cupboards. Finding nothing, I yanked open the refrigerator and stared in there. “Nina can help me cook. Right, Nina?”

“Mmm.” Nina’s lips were pursed, her eyes locked on Parker.

I went back to rummaging through the fridge.

In my imagination our refrigerator was stocked with farm-fresh organic eggs, whole-wheat bread, thick-cut bacon, and fruit salad. In actuality, there were several bottles of blood, a soggy-looking box of baking soda, and two pudding cups.

“Uh-oh,” I mumbled.

I looked over my shoulder at Nina, who had inched away, but was still staring intently at Parker. I joined her, and from the safety of a potted plant we both watched Parker stand up and stretch, the blanket falling away and revealing those SpongeBob boxer shorts.

“Rats,” Nina hissed under her breath.

“Whatever you have to eat is fine,” Parker said, stepping into his jeans. “But I really need some coffee.” He yawned heartily. “Do you two always get up at the crack of dawn?”

Nina’s head swung toward me, and she grinned, snagging a bottle of blood from the fridge. “Don’t forget to put the coffee on,” she told me, one eyebrow raised slyly. She disappeared into her closet/room while I put the coffee on and grabbed a couple of mugs. I was about to bring them to the table when I turned and ran full-force into Parker.

Smacked, into Parker Hayes’s naked chest.

“Oh, my,” I heard myself mutter as my nipples sprung to delighted attention.

“Indeed.” Parker was eyeing my pajama top and I hugged my elbows tightly, my cheeks pulsing hot with blood. “I’m going to go get my sweatshirt,” I said.

I tossed on a sweatshirt and fixed my hair, swabbed on a bit of deodorant, and gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I could probably do without the sheet creases on my pink cheek, but other than that, I didn’t think I looked half bad.

When I walked into the kitchen, Parker was leaning against my counter, shirtless. His jeans hung low on his slim hips, his legs were crossed at the ankles, his feet bare. He studied me from beneath lowered lashes and sipped his mug of coffee, looking very GQ very man-I’d-like-to-roll-in-the-hay-with. I swallowed hard and did a mental finger shake, reminding myself that Parker Hayes was my partner and my workmate and therefore completely off-limits.

Mostly.

“Morning, sunshine,” Parker said with a grin.

“Good morning again,” I said.

“So, where’s the fabulous spread you promised me?”

I opened the fridge and knocked over Nina’s Blood Light while snaking the two remaining pudding cups. I offered one to Parker.

“I’m afraid this is as fabulous as it gets this morning.” I raised my coffee mug and smiled. “But at least there’s coffee.”

Parker took the pudding cup and the spoon I offered. “Chocolate pudding. The breakfast of champions.”

We stood in the kitchen eating in silence for a moment until Parker said, “So Nina. She’s the vampire?”

I nodded, licking my spoon. “Uh-huh. And Vlad, of course.”

“Isn’t living with a vampire—or vampires—a little weird, though?”

“Oh no,” I said, leading Parker into the other room. “Nina is the best roommate I’ve ever had. I never have to worry about waking her up, she never hogs the mirror, and best of all”—I raised my pudding cup—“she never eats my food.”

“I don’t know,” Parker said, slumping down at the kitchen table. “I couldn’t sleep if I knew the vampire was there. I’d be sure it was just a matter of time until she ate me.”

“All you breathers are exactly the same!” Nina shouted, stomping into the living room, pale nostrils flared.

“She’s also super quiet,” I said, licking the chocolate pudding from my spoon.

“Look, buddy,” Nina said as she gathered her dark hair into a long, slick ponytail. “We’ve been around awhile. You breathers aren’t the only ones who’ve evolved.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed, and for once, I thought I saw genuine terror in them. I considered intervening, but I wasn’t done with my pudding cup.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just trying to figure this whole thing out,” he said, palms up, placating.

“Well, you no longer have to go all bow-and-arrow around dinnertime”—Nina shrugged—“and neither do we.”

Parker looked from Nina to me and back again and dropped his voice. “Vampire restaurants?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“See? This is what I can’t stand. We’re not all crazed maniacs, you know. When you walk into a grocery store, do you start ripping everything off the shelves, tearing into a box of Frosted Flakes with your teeth? No! Sure, when you’re hungry you might make a few bad decisions”—Nina rubbed her stomach and winced—“but you can control yourself. So can we.”

Parker shuddered. “But don’t you … like … the thrill of the hunt?”

Nina’s eyes went wild, primitive, and her lips parted, the pink tip of her tongue touching her sharp incisors. “Do I ever!” She kicked out her right leg and pointed at it. “Dolce and Gabbana slouch boots, forty percent off!”

The color returned to Parker’s cheeks, and he groaned, tossing his pudding cup in the trash. “I don’t know why I was worried. You chicks are all the same—dead or alive.”

Nina cocked her head, her nostrils fluttering as Parker passed her.

“What?” he asked, eyes wide.

“You smell … different.”

Parker’s cheeks flushed, and I tossed Nina my “it’s impolite to sniff our guests” look. “So, Nina, how was Dirt last night?”

“Wait. One more thing,” Parker started, taking a large step back from Nina. “What about the no-sunlight part? Is that true?”

Nina crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded. “Yeah. You know the whole UV-sunburn thing?”

Parker nodded.

“Well, it’s like that, times, like, a billion. And then we burst into flames.”

I grimaced, but Parker seemed unfazed. “And what about the no-aging part? People have to wonder about that. How do you get around that one?”

“Most vampires are nomadic for that reason. But it’s not as big a problem as you might think. Men never question it; it’s the women who always ask.”

“And what do you tell them?”

“Pilates.”

Parker’s eyebrows shot up. “Pilates? Really?”

“If I even hinted at the truth there wouldn’t be a drop of blood left in the entire hemisphere and I’d be stuck with an undead army of cougars in Juicy Couture. That’s another thing—when you live forever, you become very skeptical of who you want to take along for the ride.” Nina blew out a sigh. “Forever is a very, very long time.”

I stared into my pudding cup and grinned while Parker squirmed.

“Forever, huh?” he asked.

Nina shrugged. I refilled Parker’s and my coffee mugs, and then the three of us settled at the dining room table.

“Okay then,” I said to Nina, “back to Dirt. Anything we should know about? Has there been anything interesting going on?”

Nina shrugged, pulling the morning paper off the counter. “That’s just it—nothing. Apparently there was some big fight there earlier—Thor demons, I heard—so the place was basically emptied out by the time we got there.”

“Thor demons? Fighting? That’s weird. They’re generally pretty peaceful.”

Parker’s eyes flashed, and I sipped my coffee, continuing, “You know, as far as demons go.”

The lock tumbled on the front door, and then Vlad was standing in the middle of the living room, his black-Drac uniform obscured by an ankle-length leather duster.

I pasted on a smile as Parker’s eyes widened. “Vlad, you remember Parker.”

Vlad’s nostrils flared as if he was smelling something unsavory. “Uh-huh.”

“Nice coat,” Parker said.

Vlad’s eyes flashed. “This is the official uniform—”

“We know, we know, Vlad. It’s the official wacky uniform of the Vampire Empowerment and Restoration Movement,” Nina said.

Parker’s brow furrowed. “VERM?”

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t shorten it.”

Parker leaned back and sipped his coffee. “And what is it that this movement wants to do, exactly?”

“We seek to restore vampires to their former glory and power, when humankind was rightfully subservient to our superior race.”

“Well, la-di-dah,” Parker said under his breath.

“It’s just a lame excuse for a bunch of vamps to run around in capes and top hats,” Nina said.

Vlad glared, his blue-white fangs bared. “We are restoring a centuries-old balance of power. Our race has been practically obliterated, forced to flee, to live underground.”

“I thought sunlight killed vampires?” I piped up.

“That’s beside the point,” Vlad said sharply. “The Movement welcomes all vampires”—he eyed Nina—“no matter how far from the flock they have fallen.”

Nina snorted and flipped a page on her newspaper. “Lame!”

“If you’re not with us, you’re against us, Auntie.”

“Fine!” Nina threw up her hands. “Put me down for a bumper sticker.”

Parker chuckled, and Vlad rolled his eyes, crossed the living room in a burst of cool air, walked into Nina’s closet bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.

“Charming kid,” Parker said, raising his coffee cup.

“You should see him when he’s in a bad mood,” Nina said, scanning the paper.

“Are these VERMS—”

“We don’t shorten it!” Vlad moaned from behind his closed door.

Parker lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Are they violent? Could they possibly be responsible …?”

Nina wagged her head. “No. Like I said, it’s really nothing but a bunch of spoiled rich vamp kids with nothing better to do.”

“I heard that!” Vlad whined.

“Good,” Nina returned. “Then maybe you all will forget this stupid movement and decide to do something worthwhile with your afterlife!” She shook her head at Parker and me. “This new generation of vampire—they think they’re so entitled.” She went back to reading her paper, then fingered the edge of her mug and casually looked up at us. “So, have you two had any luck with your case?”

I wagged my head. “No, not really.”

Parker swallowed and glared at me. “We’re doing okay. Hey, what’s Dirt? You mentioned it a minute ago, before Mr. Dark and Broody blew in.”

“Club,” I said. “Underworld friendly. Mostly vampires, demons …”

“The occasional zombie.” Nina wrinkled her nose. “They have got to get better security at the door.”

Parker looked at me. “Maybe our perp …”

Nina’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

Parker cleared his throat, pushed his empty coffee mug away. “I think our perp might be”—his eyes studied Nina, her slick black hair, her ruby-red lips pursed and heart-shaped—“of the nonhuman persuasion. Have you heard anything around the club? Any chatter about … conquests, attacks?”

“Conquests?” Nina snorted. “We’re demons, not Vikings.”

Parker raised an annoyed eyebrow. “Fine. Have you heard anything?”

Nina sat back in her chair. “I guess there has been some chatter. I don’t really pay attention though; the band was actually pretty decent last night.”

The bedroom door opened, and Vlad poked his head out. “Chatter? I heard a few things.”

“Now he’s Mr. Helpful,” Nina muttered.

I looked at Vlad. “Heard about what?”

“Lucy—this little glampire I was hanging with last night—mentioned something about a couple of norms harassing her, asking her if she’d do them a favor.”

“What’s so weird about that?” Nina asked. “Breathers are always asking us for stupid stuff—love potions, to feed on someone.”

Parker looked green.

“But I never do,” Nina continued.

“They were asking her about the demons at Dirt, and then they wanted to know about the Sword of Bethesda. If she knew where to find it. They were obviously idiots.”

“Why is that?” Parker asked.

Vlad snorted. “Because they couldn’t even tell a real vampire from a glampire. Lucy didn’t know anything.”

Nina slapped her hand on the table. “Wait, let me get this straight. Vlad Count Chocula, Mr. Vampire Empowerment, was hanging out with a breather? If you’re so pro-vamp, why the heck would you be wasting your time with a breather?” She held up a placating palm to Parker and me. “No offense. Isn’t that against, like, your bylaws?”

Vlad steepled his fingers, his porcelain face remaining unchanged. “The weak-willed breathers are used to doing our bidding. They will be properly compensated when their services are no longer needed.”

“You have bidding?” Nina asked, incredulous. “What the hell kind of bidding do you have, Louis, seriously?”

I blanched. “Compensated? Like, changed?”

Nina’s face was fierce. “Oh no. No one is getting compensated that way. No one is getting bitten.”

Vlad raised a single eyebrow. “Perhaps you think she would prefer a puppy?”

“What is it with you two and baby animals?” I shouted. “No kittens, no puppies, and no turning humans into vampires, capisce?”

Nina went back to reading her paper, but I could see the smile playing on her lips. “She’s tough, Vlad. I’d do what she says.”

“What’s the Sword of Bethesda?” Parker asked.

Nina shrugged. “Don’t know, never heard of it.”

“Don’t you know anything? The Sword of Bethesda is a charmed sword,” Vlad said.

“Great,” Nina said, bored. “And why would I want a charmed sword?”

I gulped. “Maybe to gauge someone’s eyeballs out?”

“Or slit their throat?” Parker asked.

Nina looked pained.

“I didn’t mean you would use it to gouge someone’s eyeballs out.” I looked from Nina to Parker. “I’m just thinking maybe that’s what it would be used for.”

Parker shook his head. “When did these guys talk to your friend?”

Vlad shrugged. “Dunno. A couple of days ago, I guess. You can ask Lucy yourself. We’re going out tonight.”

“Thanks, Vlad.”

Vlad slammed the bedroom door. I glanced at Nina, then at Parker, and my eyebrows shot up. “Hey, what if we go to Dirt? I mean Parker and me. You know, like, undercover?”

Nina and Parker looked at me, both their expressions set on “Are you crazy?”

“Just listen. We could slide in, just for a night, and listen to what everyone is saying. Maybe we could get some clues or ask around. I certainly wouldn’t mistake a fanpire for the real thing. Maybe I could find out more about this sword, who’s looking for it—or who’s got it.”

Parker looked at Nina. “Why don’t we just send Nina in?”

Nina crossed her arms. “Why don’t we not?”

I laid my palms flat on the table and knitted my brows. “Come on, Parker. This might be the only way to break this case—or at least to help rule out whether or not the killer is human. And Nina—” I worked the puppy-dog eyes on her. “This could be our only chance to find Sampson. Someone has to know where he is, has to have heard something. A werewolf doesn’t just disappear into thin air.”

“That’s true,” Vlad called from behind his closed door. “That one’s impossible. Dell goblins can, but they’re pretty much the only ones.”

Parker blew out a resigned sigh while Nina looked contemplative.

“Okay,” Nina said finally, licking her lips. “Tonight’s a good night for visiting anyway. Vlad’s going to be there with Lucy, and who knows, you two might like it. Heartstrings are playing and they are fantastic. The keyboardist used to feed on Mozart.”

Parker went pale.

“Okay, great.” I forced an excited smile. “What time do we leave?”

“Wow,” Nina said as we drove to the UDA office that morning, “you’re glowing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Woke up with Coptastic, have a hot date tonight … I can practically hear the blood coursing through your veins. You’re all atwitter.”

I frowned. “I’d appreciate you not listening to my innards; it really freaks me out. And it’s not a date. It’s undercover work.”

“And this morning?” Nina wanted to know.

“More work. And speaking of this morning, why were you smelling Parker? It’s hard enough to tout the benefits of a vampire friendship without you sniffing around him like he’s dinner.”

“It’s just that he smells weird,” she said, frowning. “Not like dinner weird, either. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s different.”

“It’s Buffalo. That’s where he’s from.”

Nina looked at me sideways.

“I smell it, too.” Vlad said, turning down the death metal on his iPod. “What is he, anyway?”

“He’s a detective!”

Neither Nina nor Vlad looked convinced.

“Look, you two, I don’t know what’s stranger—you guys thinking that he smells weird or you guys smelling him at all.”

“He doesn’t smell like a detective,” Vlad murmured, turning up his iPod. “He doesn’t even smell human.”

“What does he smell like?” I asked.

Nina shrugged. “Just weird.”

“He’s human,” I said. “You guys are nuts. I’ve even felt his heartbeat.”

Nina’s eyebrows waggled. “Sexy.”

“Gross,” Vlad contended from the backseat.

We rode in silence until Nina pulled her car into the police station parking lot, maneuvering over to the UDA-reserved spaces.

“Hey.” I grinned, relief washing over me. “That’s Pete’s car. At least one thing is back to normal.”

“Our boss is back at work,” Nina moaned, pulling her key out of the ignition. “Yippee.”

I headed straight for Mr. Sampson’s office when we walked into UDA but stopped short when I got to his closed office door. I knocked timidly, then poked my head in. “Mr. Sampson?”

I pushed the door open when there was no answer and stared at the empty room.

“Sampson’s not in,” Lorraine said from behind me.

I whirled, clutching my heart. “Oh. Lorraine, sorry, you scared me.”

Costineau whined as he circled around her ankles, throwing me dagger glares with his yellow cat eyes.

“I saw that he—at least his car—is here. Do you know where he is?”

Lorraine held the file folders she was clutching close to her chest and pinned me with her stare. Finally, she simply said, “No.”

I strode toward her. “Really, Lorraine? Because this could be really important. I’m worried about Sampson. Did you see anything, anything at all, when you did that scan?”

Lorraine’s eyes shone. “Yes.”

My eyebrows rose in the universal “Well?” fashion.

“I think you need to ask your detective friend.” Lorraine smiled thinly and stepped away, Costineau following after her.

“What does that mean? Ask him what?” I yelled, tailing her.

But Lorraine didn’t turn around. Costineau jumped onto Lorraine’s shoulder and hissed at me as they disappeared down the hall.

By one o’clock I had made eighteen passes in front of Lorraine’s empty desk and listened to Parker’s voice mail greeting twenty-two times. Nina was sitting on the end of my desk, swinging her long legs and sucking on a plasma pop, when I finally got Parker on the line.

“Parker, thank God! I’ve been calling you all day.”

“Sorry,” Parker said, sounding distracted, “I’ve been tied up. What’s going on?”

“Sampson’s car is here. In the UDA parking lot. But Sampson never showed up to work.”

There was a short pause, and then Parker said, “Okay, show me. Meet me in the lot.”

I tightened the belt on my sweater against the damp air while Parker reclined on a white SUV, looking all at once Abercrombie attractive and CSI-cocky. I showed him to Sampson’s car, and he circled it, scrutinizing it from every angle while I jumped from foot to foot, trying to keep warm.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well, it looks like the dog drives a nice BMW, while I—a perfect angel—get a 4Runner with a transmission problem.”

“Fabulous. Can you do your male comparisons on your own time? What does the car tell us about where Sampson is?”

“It tells us that Sampson is not here.” I gaped at Parker, and he grinned at me.

“Real smart,” I said.

“Ask a stupid question,” Parker said as he shook his head and sunk down to his knees. Before I could blink he had jimmied the driver’s side door lock.

“Parker!” I hissed as he slid into Mr. Sampson’s front seat. “What are you doing? Get out of there. You’re breaking and entering.”

He grinned up at me and kicked open Mr. Sampson’s glove box. “You call it breaking and entering, I call it being thorough. Besides, I’m a cop. This is totally legal.” He handed me a stack of registration papers. “Here, make yourself useful.”

I slid onto the passenger seat and looked out the front windshield nervously, holding the papers in my lap. “So, I talked to Lorraine today.”

Parker didn’t look up while he rifled. “Oh yeah? What did she have to say?”

“She said to ask you about the scan.”

“What scan?”

I put the papers down and blew out a sigh. “When she scanned the other day, looking for Sampson, remember?”

Parker paused. “Yeah. Didn’t she say she couldn’t find anything?”

“She said that yesterday. Today, she told me to ask you.”

“I have no idea what she meant by that. Look at this.” Parker extracted a glossy postcard and handed it to me. “Looks like Pete Sampson was a VIP guest at the grand opening of Dirt.”

I tucked the postcard back into the glove box. “So?” I asked.

Parker raised his eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes.

“So I guess it’s a good thing we’re headed to Dirt tonight.”

After work Nina and I had dinner together—well, I had two mini cheeseburgers and a half order of fries while Nina pouted her lips and rapped her fingers on the table, grimacing at every bite I took.

“How can you eat that stuff?” she asked me, her cute little ski-jump nose wrinkled.

“Like this,” I said, shoveling in a few more fries. “Look, when I decide to go all liquid, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Can you at least hurry up? Parker is going to be back here at eleven and I want to get to Dirt before they run out of AB neg.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s the Cristal of blood.”

“Delicious,” I said, my burger churning in my stomach. “I’ll go get dressed.”

I stared into my closet, frowning at my collection of smart button-down blouses and Martha Stewart–esque knit twin sets. Not very vamp. After digging for a bit I struggled into the black sheath that I had worn for my Uncle Fernstad’s funeral six years ago.

Hm, must have shrunk in the wash.

I sucked in heavily, slid the slim dress down over my hips, kicked into a pair of Mary Janes and shrugged in the mirror. Not great, but it would do.

“Okay,” I said to Nina, doing a quick spin when I walked into the living room. “Vamp enough?”

Nina tinkled the ice in her cup and licked a drop of blood from her lip. “Not even close.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not even troll worthy.”

I frowned, looking down at myself. “What? It’s black, tight, short …”

“Off-the-rack, dull, linen. You look like you’re going to a funeral.” Her eyes dropped to my ankles. “In sensible shoes.”

I flopped onto the couch. “This is the best I can do. Besides, I’m working, remember? I’m not exactly there for fun, and besides”—I glanced at the remains of Nina’s bloody cocktail—“do I really want to stand out?”

Nina set down her cup and stood up. “Yes, you do. That”—she eyed my ensemble dismissively—“is going to get you eaten. Come with me.” Nina’s cold hand wrapped around mine, and once again, I was shocked by her strength as she pulled me off the couch and behind her to her room.

“Never fear,” she said, kicking open the door. “Haute couture is here.”

Nina’s enormous closet was more organized than most clothing stores with all her pieces grouped by designer, color, and decade. She had an entire wall dedicated to shoes, and I lovingly fingered the butter-soft leather on a pair of high-heeled boots from the Victorian era while Nina zipped past me, draping garments over her arm, holding them up to me and tossing them aside.

“Off,” she said, pointing to my funeral dress. I wriggled out of it while she handed me a delicate slip dress, deep purple and cut on the bias.

“A little skimpy, don’t you think?” I asked, as the fabric swished a few inches below my butt.

Nina bit her lip and headed over to the portion of the room draped in the heavy, jacquard fabrics of the French royals (circa 1700) and found a complicated-looking corset.

“Put this on.”

I started to slide the straps of the dress off my shoulder and Nina rolled her eyes, grabbed the corset and smoothly wrapped it around my waist, her pale fingers moving quickly and methodically as she laced it up. I sucked in deeply, wondering if my eyes were bulging or if my ribs would implode.

“Excellent,” Nina said, her fangs exposed. She handed me a pair of black hose and a pair of killer boots. I gazed at the four-inch heels skeptically.

“I’m going to get a nosebleed wearing these.”

“Better not,” Nina said with a smile that was meant to be reassuring.

I gulped and yanked on the hose and boots. Once I was dressed, Nina looked me up and down, nodding, thrilled with her handiwork. “Perfect,” she said.

I took her word for it. Having no reflection, Nina had no need for a full-length mirror.

There was a knock at the door, and Parker was in the foyer before I had the chance to scrutinize myself in the bathroom mirror and tie a trench coat over my hooker-vamp makeover. My eyes widened as he leaned against the door frame, his jeans dark-washed and sitting low on his narrow hips, his black T-shirt stretched taut against that mouth-watering chest. His dark hair was still wet, pushed back over his forehead, a few curls snaking over the tops of his ears. I felt Parker’s cobalt eyes slide over me, then watched his pink lips press together and as he let out a low whistle. “You look hot, Lawson!”

I felt the burn in my cheeks and looked at my toes in Nina’s fancy black boots.

“It’s Nina’s,” I murmured to my shoes.

“You can thank me later,” Nina said as she brushed past us in a cool wave. “Come on. We’ll go over the ground rules in the car.”

“Ground rules?” Parker asked, his eyebrows raised.

I shrugged and stepped through the door, feeling a little shudder when Parker put his hand on the small of my back, took my keys, and locked the door behind us. His smile was sweet as he looked down at me and my legs turned against me, going all Jell-O-y and warm, setting my heart off in a series of nervous pitters.

“We should go undercover more often.” Parker’s eyes were fixed firmly on my breasts, and when I caught a glimpse of myself in the vestibule mirror, I saw why.

“Nina!” I hissed. The corset had pushed my normal, barely-B’s into voluptuous, chin-skimming C’s that seemed to jiggle appreciatively with every move I made. Although I had every intention of being indignant and Gloria Steinem–pissed, I must say my cinched-in waist looked extra slim with my new, top-heavy body, the effect being a pretty hot hourglass in a butt-length skirt. Either way, I crossed my arms in front of me and scowled.

“Pervert,” I muttered to Parker.

“Tease,” he muttered back, that devilish half grin on his face, his hand on my ass. I swatted it away and slid in next to Nina in the front seat of her black Lexus.

“Nice car,” Parker said.

“Keeping a little in the bank for one hundred and sixteen years—plus my twenty-nine real life years—can earn you a bit of interest,” Nina said, smoothly pulling into the midnight traffic.

“I’ll bet.” Parker nodded.

“Okay,” Nina said, her dark purple fingernails drumming on the steering wheel. “First things first: you’re going to stick out like sore thumbs.”

I frowned down at my vamp makeover. “Then what was all this for?”

Nina pulled the car onto a dark, slick street, headlights cutting yellow rifts through the fog. “I might be traveling with breathers, but I do have an image to maintain.”

“What do you mean we’re going to stick out?” Parker was leaning over the front seat, his eyes wide, a bead of perspiration forming on his upper lip. “Is that safe? Don’t we not want to stick out? Like, really not want to?”

“Well.” Nina’s eyes found Parker’s in the rearview mirror. “You’re obviously not vampires.”

“Because we’re not dressed right?” I asked.

“Because you’re breathing. That’s a hard one to miss amongst my crowd. That and your overwhelming stench of first-life.”

Parker wrinkled his nose. “Okay …”

“And your lack of horns, fangs, uncontrolled slobber, slime trails, or lichen sets you apart from the general demon population.”

“So what does that mean for us?” Parker asked.

Nina shrugged. “It means you don’t make a scene. Don’t ruffle any feathers, don’t get on anyone’s radar and don’t go anywhere alone. Generally no one will bother you—certainly not the vampire set.”

“See?” I told Parker. “I told you. Vampires are very rule oriented.”

“Well, when the options are follow the rules or spend eternity running for your life—being hunted by pithy little blondes or mocked by the high school goth set—the decision becomes quite simple, really.” Nina looked up into the rearview mirror, but there was no return reflection.

“So we should be okay?” Parker asked.

“Should be. But you will be recognized.”

I shuddered. “Is it really that bad?”

“Not usually, but sometimes the service at the bar can be so slow and”—Nina rolled her eyes—“some demons have no self-control. Either way, most vamps will just dismiss you guys as fanpires.”

“Fanpires?”

“Breathers who pretend to be vampires. Anytime a new vampire movie comes out, they’re out in droves. Thanks a lot, Twilight.”