It was difficult to render me mute, but these two gals did it repeatedly.
“You really gonna rip our heads off?” Martha asked.
My chin dropped forward to my chest. They knew as well as I did that I wasn’t going to remove their heads. As much they deserved it, I would never do it. They’d been instrumental in saving my son’s life and for that, I would be eternally grateful—not that I really wanted to spend any quality time with them, or any time at all for that matter. They didn’t need my help with losing an appendage. At the rate the dingbats were going, they were going to get their heads torn off by someone else anyway.
“No, not today,” I told them as I approached them.
They held their ground warily and gave me pathetic smiles and waves. Holy Hell, it looked like Jane might have lost a few teeth in the melee. I stared hard at the ancient pains in my butt as they fidgeted like children and I tried to figure out what to do with them. Maybe if I just knocked their heads together really hard, I’d feel better. It wouldn’t kill them. As Vampyres, they were very hard to eliminate. And these two numbnuts had proved without a doubt that being undead and stupid made them even harder to kill.
“We’d be more than happy to go after the creepy flesh eating turd waffles,” Martha told me as she picked up the weapons she’d flung around.
“Nope,” I said. “You’re underqualified and I can’t risk that you wouldn’t open more portals along the way. You’re going back to the Cressida House and you’re not allowed off the property until I say so.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Jane muttered, helping her sister dig through the slimy ash to retrieve the weapons.
“No, it’s actually very nice,” I said so calmly they both blanched in terror. “The harsh part is that you will wear clothes that completely cover your bodies until further notice.”
“No booty shorts?” Martha asked as she paled considerably.
For a Vampyre that was difficult…
“Nope.”
“No mini skirts?” Jane inquired almost inaudibly.
“Nope.”
“I’m guessing thong bikinis are out as well,” Martha added sadly.
The thought of them in ass baring swimwear was therapy inducing. Their boobs hung to their belly buttons and their skin was all pickled and spotted. They were an anomaly in the blood-sucker world. Usually when someone was turned from human to Vampyre, their natural beauty was enhanced to the point of ridiculousness. Martha and Jane—not so much.
“Thong bikinis are against the law for eternity. You two will wear clothing that covers every inch of your bodies except for your wrinkly faces.”
“Sweet Jesus on a tractor with a farmer’s tan,” Martha cried out. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d know,” I replied with an eye roll, still considering the possibility. “This rule goes into effect as soon as we get back to the compound. Am I clear?”
“As mud,” Jane bitched.
“I have a question, Knockers McMilkbomb,” Martha said, raising her hand politely as if that would negate the fact she’d basically just called me a cow.
“Spit it out, old lady.”
“How did you know to come and find us?”
That was a fine question and one I couldn’t quite explain. I’d just felt that something was off and let my instincts guide me. I’d left ten shocked and snooty Vampyres mid-conversation in the formal parlor of our home. Apparently they were taking issue with the fact that Ethan and I were getting married when we were already mated. Ethan had seemed surprised at my abrupt departure, but he took my oddities in stride. He also knew I couldn’t stand Vampyre politics and tended to shove my foot in my mouth more often than not.
The old school Vamps couldn’t wrap their pea brains around my need for a human ceremony and had been very vocal with their displeasure. I’d explained as diplomatically as I could at a Formal Summit Council meeting for the Vampyre Who’s Who that they could shove it their up their non-breathing asses and skip our wedding. Needless to say, that went over like a lead balloon. As penance, I’d been writing apology notes to dead people all week.
“I’m not sure,” I told the gals truthfully. “I just knew something was wrong.”
“Well, um... thank you,” Martha mumbled.
“I’m sorry. What?” Had my super sonic hearing failed me? Had the nasty grizzled freak- show actually expressed gratitude? Had Hell frozen over?
“I’m not sayin’ it again,” Martha groused, trying unsuccessfully to hide her grin.
“But since she did say it, maybe you could reconsider the ban on booty shorts,” Jane chimed in hopefully as she wiped Demon goop off of her dagger and onto her unfortunate choice of clothing.
“Nope. You will be garbed completely. Period.
“We’re gonna look like fucking nuns,” Martha groused.
Now there was an idea…
***
“They can’t wear habits,” Ethan said as he scrubbed his hands over his gorgeous face and tried not to laugh.
“Why not?” I argued. “It’s a vast improvement over glittery boob tubes and hot pants.”
“While this is true, having them impersonate nuns is sacrilegious,” he explained logically, pacing his office.
“Are you serious?” I asked, carefully moving an ugly three-headed statue from the coffee table to a new home underneath a chair. I was certain the heinous thing cost more than the national debt, but I couldn’t look at it anymore.