FANGED

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Slowly, I turned and saw a teeny girl with cropped blond hair wearing a cute, light blue tunic top and white capris pants. Her sandals were so sublime, I almost squealed. They were an adorable pair of Prada crisscross leather espadrilles in nude. The very same pair I drooled over in last year's spring catalog. My fingers practically itched to touch them.

"Who are you?" she asked again in a sweetly polite voice.

With great effort, I pulled my eyes away from her amazing shoes and locked eyes with the biggest set of brown eyes I'd ever seen outside of a pet shop. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old and was scrawny as hell. I instantly had the urge to make her sandwich or take her to McDonalds for a happy meal.

Judging by the cutting shears in her hands and the fact she was standing in the sun, it didn't take Nancy Drew to figure out she was one of the immortal minions Fang had been talking about. See? I do pay attention from time to time. You might want to mark that on your calendars.

"Um...I'm Mel?" I said hesitantly. I wasn't sure if I should have given her my real name or not, but frankly...I couldn't come up with a suitable fake one. Now...if this had been an episode of James Bond, I could have easily pulled off a name like Pussy Galore. Pun totally intended. But, since I didn't think this was a Bond worthy moment, I decided to stick with the one I was born with.

"What's your name?" I asked, since we were making mannerly conversation and all.

"I'm Courtanya. Are you new here?" She tilted her head, blinking those puppy dog eyes up at me. I was actually taller than someone for a change. Go figure.

Confusion had me momentarily speechless before I finally understood what she meant. She thought I was a newly acquired immortal. Huh...I thought they had quite making those? I needed to discuss this with Fang. Either he had fibbed or there was way more hanky-panky going on here at Payton Palace than he realized.

"Yup, brand spanking new." I said, smiling at her.

She gasped at me, her brown eyes narrowing to twin little slits. "You are vampyre," she hissed, pointing her shears at me.

Ruh-roh, Shaggy. I took a step back, pulling my lips over my teeth. Drat! I was more busted than Milli Vanilli. Way to go Melanie, some Bond girl you turned out to be! I had just given away my cover in less than a minute. Probably a new record for me. At least she had called me vampire and not an abomination.

"You are the abomination my Mistress warned us about," she spat.

Well...so much for that silver lining bullshit. "Who's your Mistress?" I asked, though I had a horrid feeling I knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Mistress Druilla told us of a cunning, demon spawn with flaming hellfire hair who would bring destruction and pestilence to our people."

Druilla thought I was cunning? Tubular! My pleasure was quickly doused when the little cutie started stalking towards me with garden shears raised and murder in her brown eyes. Which, I have to tell you, weren't so damn adorable anymore.

"Now wait a minute," I said quickly, backpedaling. "I draw the line at pestilence. I've never even had lice growing up. And as far as destruction goes," I shrugged my shoulders, "she's the one who went all yanky the wanky on the statues."

"You will never be a vampyre or suitable for the King," she fumed, taking a swipe at me.

Fortunately, I had my super vampy senses and I could track her movements as if she was moving in really, really slow motion and I easily dodged it. I looked around for anything I could use as a deterrent. I didn't want to hurt her, though I would be totally in my right. But somehow, it would be like kicking the ass of Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls. Besides, anyone who had that great of taste in shoes deserved to live. Now, if she had been wearing jelly shoes or clogs, that would be a different matter altogether.