After the death of my husband—and my dreams of motherhood—I returned to the family estate in Broken Heart, Oklahoma. Little did I know I would literally give up my life as Elizabeth Bretton, the Silverstone heiress. The whole undead situation calls for a drink—blood martini, straight up, please.

Escaping the past isn’t that easy—especially when someone else’s past is out to get me. Now I have a vengeful ghost trying to kill me, a 150-year-old mystery to solve, and an outrageous were-jaguar named Tezozomoc “Tez” Abraham Elvis Jones trying to get into my boudoir. Tez is a homicide detective, who is vulgar, egotistical, presumptuous—and ridiculously hot. Mreow, indeed.

“It’s haunted,” said Bryan O’Halloran.

“Hel-lo, welcome to Broken Heart,” said Wilson Donovan. “Everything’s haunted. Just ask my mom.”

Wilson’s mother, Patsy, would know. Like his own mom, Patsy had gotten Turned into a vampire. And she could actually see and talk to ghosts. She saw them everywhere; worse, they saw her. Plus, she’d once raised a zombie army, which Bryan thought was so beast.

“Well, this house was haunted before the town got freak-a-fied.” They left the cracked sidewalk and walked through the yard, which was filled with itchy, knee-high grass. Bryan aimed his flashlight across the front of the tiny house. The beam revealed peeling gray paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch.

This section of the neighborhood had long been abandoned. The streetlights didn’t work, the sidewalks were crumbling, and all the houses in the cul de sac looked like movie sets for horror movies.

“You know the story, right?” asked Bryan. He approached the the porch, stopping at the broken steps and peering at the front door. It was half-opened, offering a diagonal glimpse into the darkened room beyond it.

“Lemme guess,” said Wilson, sounding bored. “Some dude killed his wife. With an ax. Then he buried her in the basement.”

Bryan rolled his eyes. “What is this? The Goosebumps hour?” He laughed, mostly to cover how nervous he felt. For all the weird crap he’d seen–from his vampire mom to that zombie with the eye glued to his forehead–he was still creeped out by this place. They’d been hanging out at Wilson’s house, talking about Halloween and trying to top each other’s scary stories. Then Bryan had mentioned this place, and now they were on a ghost field trip.

“What are you waiting for, dude?” Wilson punched his shoulder. “C’mon.”

He jumped over the steps and crossed the porch, which didn’t look too steady. Still, no way would he let think Wilson he was a coward. He followed him into the house. They stood in the small living room, and Bryan flashed the light around.

“It smells like ass in here,” said Wilson.

The beam revealed a ratty couch and a broken coffee table. Obviously, they weren’t the first trespassers to venture here. Graffitti covered the walls and trash littered the nasty, hole-ridden carpet.

“So what’s the story?” asked Wilson. He turned on his own flashlight and flicked it over the wall to examine the graffiti.

“It was 1954. A widower and his two little girls move from Tulsa to Broken Heart. One day, the girls disappeared–somewhere between the bus stop and this house. Nobody every knew what happened to them. The father went crazy with grief and shot himself. Some people think he killed his daughters.”

Wilson looked over his shoulder, his expression suggesting minor interest. “And buried them in the basement?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Lame.” Wilson panned the light into the hallway. “Where do you think the basement door is?”

“Probably in the kitchen,” said Bryan.

“Let’s go.”

Bryan reluctantly followed his friend into the kitchen, and yeah, there was the door that led to the basement. He had to admit this place was creepy. It smelled bad, like rotted meat. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Goosebumps pimpled his skin and the hair on the back of his neck felt electrified.

But he couldn’t wimp out. Wilson would never let him live it down if he refused to go check out the basement.

“That’s weird,” said Wilson. “This whole place is falling apart, but this door is nailed shut.” He ran his fingers along the doorjamb. “We can’t get in this way.”

Relief flooded Bryan. Any excuse not to go down to the basement was okay by him. “I’m bored,” he said. “Let’s roll.”

“Don’t be a chickenshit. We’ll go outside. Maybe there’s a window or a ground entry.”

Terrific.

BANG!

Both boys nearly jumped out of their skin.

“What the hell was that?” asked Bryan. He spun around the dilapidated kitchen, the light bouncing from ceiling to floor.

“Ooooooooooooooo.”

Bryan’s heart kicked into overdrive and his palms got sweaty. Fear rollercoastered through him. He looked at Wilson. His friend was as white as a sheet, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “It’s nothing,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Ooooooooooooooo!”

Knock, bang, knock, bang.

“I’m out!” cried Wilson.

They bolted from the house, sprinting over the steps, and kept on running all the way down the street.

A minute later, Tamara LeRoy and Jenny O’Halloran popped up from their hiding places in the cabinets.

“Boys are stupid,” said Jenny.

Tamara smiled. “Eh. They have other uses.”

“Yuck.” Jenny turned on her flashlight and moved it around the kitchen. “You really think that guy killed his kids?”

“No,” said Tamara. “I think it’s a dumb story.”

They examined the dusty counters. “Hey look.” Jenny picked up a battered business card. “Larry Stotten.” Her eyes went wide. “That’s my zombie!”

“I told you, Jen, you can’t keep a pet zombie. Your mom doesn’t even like cats.”

“Maybe he’s looking for his daughters,” said Jenny. “We should help him.”

“It’s been fifty years,” said Tamara. “I don’t think that’s a mystery we can solve.”

Jenny crossed the kitchen and examined the basement door. “That was smart of you to nail the door shut. It sure freaked out the boys.”

“I didn’t nail it shut.” Tamara and Jenny shared a look. “Time to go.”

Jenny nodded, and together, they hurriedly left the house of Larry Stotten.

“It’s a shovel,” Jessica said as she accepted the object from Patsy. She looked around the cemetery, and shuddered. She thrust the shovel back at her friend. “No. Hell, no. You tricked me.”

“I promised you Godiva,” said Patsy, “but only after you do me this one little favor.” She plucked her own shovel from the trunk of her white Mercedes. “It won’t take long.”

Jessica glared at Patsy, who ignored her and walked down the nearest row of tombstones.

“Fine!” said Jessica stomping after her, “but I want two boxes of Godiva.”

Patsy stopped at a grave and peered down at the piles of dirt. Jessica squatted next to her and examined the hole. It was easy to make out the ripped open coffin. “Are those chains?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” said Patsy. “He keeps getting out.”

“Who?”

“Larry Stotten.”

“And he is…?”

“I don’t know. Some guy who died in 1954.”

Jessica stood up and looked around the cemetery. It was quiet. The full moon hung in the sky like a white chocolate truffle nestled against a sky of dark chocolate. Mmm. Chocolate.

“There he is!”

Patsy took off and Jessica followed. It was only after they reached the zombie that she remembered she could fly. She looked down at her muddied shoes and sighed.

“Hey Larry,” said Patsy. “Time to go night-night pal.”

“Noooooo.”

“Dude. He talked.”

Patsy tossed Jessica a glare. “I don’t care if he sings opera. He can’t wander around the freaking town.” She aimed the shovel at his knees and WHAM.

“Holy crap!” cried Jessica.

Larry the zombie went down howling.

“Grab his head!” shouted Patsy as she sat on his squirming legs.

“How about no?”

“Okay, okay, three boxes. Just hold on to his damned head so I can drain his ju-ju.”

“That sounds perverted.”

“Jessica!”

“Fine!” Jess dropped her shovel and knelt next to Larry. He had wispy hair and gray skin and for some reason, his left eyeball was attached to his forehead. “Ew. What up with that?”

Patsy spared a glance and grimaced. “Every time he gets out something weird happens to him.”

“Is this the same guy who bit Meyer?”

“No. If you’ll recall Meyer kicked that zombie’s head off.”

“Oh. right.”

Jessica grabbed Larry’s head and the eye still in its socket rolled up to look at her. “Sorry, dude.”

His arms stretched toward her, but his coordination sucked and he didn’t do much other than wiggle his fingers at her.

“Noooooo.”

Jessica felt a little sorry for him. What was wrong with having a zombie for the town mascot? It wasn’t like it would be weird or anything.

“Pleeeeaaassee.”

“His breath is rank, but I swear I can smell Kit Kat.”

“You can determine the kinds of chocolate? On zombie breath?”

“It’s a talent,” said Jessica. “I know chocolate.”

Patsy shook her head and started muttering the spell that would turn poor Larry from zombie to corpse. A minute later, he stopped moving and lay still.

“I think we should chop him up.”

“Not for all the Godiva in the world,” said Jessica. “Let’s just get him back into the grave. And you know what? If he rises again, just leave him alone. He was kinda nice for a zombie.”

Patsy scooped up Larry and carried him to the grave. After getting him tucked in, her and Jess piled the dirt until the hole was filled.

“I need a shower,” said Jessica.

“God. Me, too. Let’s get outta here.”

They walked to Patsy’s mercedes, dumped the shovels into the trunk, and left.

Almost three hours passed before two gray hands popped out of the freshly turned earth like big ugly flowers. A few minutes later, Larry crawled out of his grave and leaned against his marble headstone. He straightened his damaged knees, checked to make sure his forehead eye was still affixed, then got up and shuffled toward town.

Simone Hayes held Glory’s hand as they approached the Three Sisters Bed & Breakfast. She was dressed like a black cat and held an empty plastic bucket. Braddock Hayes came up the walk behind them, settling his hands on the shoulders of his wife and daughter.

“Ready, ladies?”

Glory stopped on the porch, her eyes wide as she stared at all the spooky decorations: the grinning jack o’ lanterns, the hay-stuffed carcass of a scarecrow, neon spiders stuck to yards of webbing.

“No.” She turned and sat down on the first step. “I’ll stay here. You can bring me candy.”

“Honey, the haunted house is fun,” said Simone. “Sure, you’ll get a little scared, but it’s all fake.”

“Vampires are real. Werewolves are real. Zombies are real. Ghosts are real. Dragons are real.” Glory held up one finger for every statement, then she showed her mom and dad her hand. “Five real things. So what’s fake in the haunted house?”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t have dragons,” said Brady. “They’re too big to fit.”

Glory fixed her suspicious gaze on her father. “I’ll stay here.”

“Welcome!” said Lenette Stinson as she stepped out onto the porch. “Did you come to enjoy our scary fun?”

Lenette was Wiccan. She owned the B & B with her two sisters. Though Samhain was an important holiday in their religion, she and her sisters embraced the campy side of Halloween, too. No one liked a haunted house better than they did.

She took one look at the stubborn six-year-old planted on the first step, and looked at Simone. “Why don’t you and Brady go enjoy some punch? I’d like to introduce Glory to a friend of mine.”

Simone looked at Brady, then at Glory. Finally, she nodded, and they went into the house. Lenette sat on the step next to Glory and patted the top of the jack o’ lantern next to her. “Say hello to Jack.”

Glory glared at the carved pumpkin. “Jack?” Her tone seemed to suggest the name wasn’t too original.

Lenette smiled. “Yes. Jack. He’s a very special pumpkin, Glory. He eats your fears. All you have to do is tell him what they are then gulp, he gobbles them up like Halloween candy.”

“And I won’t be scared anymore?”

“That’s right. You wanna try it?”

Glory’s gaze flicked down the well lit sidewalk and at the twinkle lights strung in the trees and bushes. She wasn’t scared. Much.

“Okay.”

Lenette patted the pumpkin again then she stood up. “I’m going to check the decorations on the gate. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Glory nodded, and waited until Lenette reached the wrought iron gate. She fussed with the webbing strung across the top.

Glory scooted closer to Jack and leaned down to peer into his face, which looked kinda like a goblins. “Um … Jack?”

“Hello, Glory.”

She squeaked and reared back. “You talk!”

“I prefer to use my pumpkin ears to absorb from you all those delicious fears.”

The pumpkin seemed to have some kind of orange sparkle. His mouth wasn’t moving, but he was definitely talking. She slanted a look at Lenette, who was still messing with the decorations on the gate.

“I’m scared of the dark,” whispered Glory to Jack. “I’m scared of … of blood.”

“The dark is yummy, sweet as cake, and blood is the kind of frosting I take.”

Glory felt funny for a second, as if those fears that made her chest go tight and her heart skip beats were being pulled from her. Then suddenly, she wasn’t scared anymore.

“Nom, nom, nom!” cried Jack. “Thank you, Glory. Is there more?”

She flicked one more look at Lenette to make sure she was out of hearing range then she leaned very close to Jack and said, “I don’t like spiders.”

“Spiders are crunchy treats, and so it’s my pleasure to eat, eat, eat.”

Glory felt the strange sensation again … then her fear was gone. “Thank you, Jack,” she whispered. Then she kissed the top of the pumpkin. He glowed bright then she heard a little pop.

Now the pumpkin was just a jack o’ lantern once more.

“Feel better?” asked Lenette. She was walking toward Glory, her hand extended.

Glory stood up and took her hand, eager now to visit the haunted house with her mom and dad. “There’s candy, right?”

“Lots and lots of candy,” said Lenette.

Together, they went inside.

And Jack grinned.

“It’s an eyeball,” said Patsy. She glanced at her son, Wilson. He looked a little green around the gills. He nodded. He was trying very hard not to look at it.

The eyeball was centered on the lid of a pickle jar. The lid lay on the kitchen island, nestled among the bowls of candy she’d been preparing for the Halloween party.

“Where’d you find it?” she asked. She’d never been the squeamish sort, and ever since she’d become loup de sang, aka lycan-vampire, very little wigged her out.

“I didn’t,” said Wilson. “It was here when I walked in to get some Kit Kats.”

“I told you to leave the candy alone.”

“It’s not like I can eat anything now,” he said. “There’s a freaking eyeball in our kitchen!”

Patsy raised a finger and aimed for the eye.

“Oh, my God. Mom, if you poke it, I’m gonna puke.”

“What’s going on?” Gabriel strode into the kitchen looking like his usual fine self, and Patsy was instantly distracted by her husband. Was it bad to have the constant urge to lick him? He was her Halloween treat.

“I thought you were setting up the decorations,” she said. She accepted his kiss, enjoying the tiny thrill the small contact initiated.

“Eva kicked all the men out. She accused us of not helping.” He scoped out the bowls of candy. “I figured I’d grab some Kit Kats.”

“I told you guys to keep your paws off the candy.” She pointed down. “Look what Wilson found.”

Gabriel leaned over. “It’s an eyeball. Nice touch.”

“It’s real,” she said. “See all the red, stringy parts?”

Wilson made a gagging sound, and ran toward the sink. “Gross, gross, gross!”

“Really?” asked Patsy. “I thought I raised you to be less girly.”

“I don’t apologize for finding someone’s ripped out eye hurl-worthy.” He leaned over the sink and took in deep breaths. “I’m reacting like a normal person. You’re the freak.”

“Thanks, son.”

“Whose do you think it is?” asked Gabriel.

“Well, did you see anyone with only one eye, possibly screaming and cluthing their face, wandering around our house?”

Gabriel actually took a minute to think about it. “Nope. How about that Kit Kat?”

“Dude!” Wilson sucked in half the room’s oxygen. Then he turned around and marched out muttering about his parents, the mental patients.

“What do we do about it?” asked Patsy.

“We could ask Eva if she wants to use it for decorations.”

“I can see why you got kicked out.” Patsy grabbed a handful of Kit Kats and pushed them into her husband’s hand. “C’mon. We need to check out how the haunted house is coming along.”

Holding hands, they left the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Jenny Matthews O’Halloran skipped into the kitchen. She paused, then turned and gestured to her companion. “C’mere. Told you I found it!”

The man paused in the doorway. He was dressed in a dark suit with shiny black shoes. His hair was wispy, and his skin tinged gray. “Uuuuhhh.”

Jenny dug in one of the drawers and took out a small, metal tube. Then she squeezed the substance over the back of the eyeball.

Carefully she picked up the lid and walked very slowly over to her new friend. “Here you go, Larry. Put it in quick. I put Super Glue on it, so it should stay in now.”

“Uuuuhhh.” The man plucked the eyeball from the lid. He tried to stick it into his socket, but missed and the orb landed on his forehead.

Jenny tried to help, but Larry had gotten one of his fingers stuck in the glue. So now his hand and his eye were stuck to his forehead. After a minute of Jenny pulling on his arm, his hand came away, but his finger skin stayed put. It hung off the side of the eyeball like a little bat wing.

Oops.

Jenny cocked her head and considered the problem. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Uuuuhhh.”

“Well, at least you’ll never lose that eye again.” She grabbed a Kit Kat and handed it to him. “C’mon. I want you to scare my brother.”

The zombie stuffed the entire candy bar, wrapper and all, into his mouth.

Jenny laughed. “Happy Halloween, Larry.”

Princess Glitter had a daddy who went to heaven. She was very sad. Then mommy married this other guy. His name was Patrick. He had fangs and talked with a funny accent. Not ’cause of the fangs. ‘Cause he was Irish. And also a vampire. He’s not scary at all. He smells nice and gives good hugs and buys me stuff.

Also mommy and Patrick found this baby named Rich, Jr. He poops a lot. And sticks EVERYTHING in his mouth. It wasn’t Princess Glitter’s fault she accidentally left those markers in the living room. How was I supposed to know he’d eat the orange one? And the blue one? And the green one?

Anyway. Even though Rich poops and eats bad stuff, he’s still a better brother than Bryan. Princess Glitter put on her tiara and got out her magic wand and wished dumb stupid, stinky Bryan away. But the magic didn’t work ’cause he came into my room and called me a twerp and said I ruined his iPod.

I made it pretty! It was white, and now it has stars and hearts and a unicorn on it. I used my extra special glitter paint, too! He said I turned it all sissy. Well, YOU’RE a sissy, Bryan. Not me! And you better quit calling me twerp and not appreciating my art!

So then Princess Glitter decided to get some ice cream, but mommy was in the kitchen making meatloaf and yucky brussel sprouts. I waved the wand over the sprouts and shouted, “I wish all the yucky green balls of ew were disappeared!”

Patrick laughed so hard, mommy made him leave. Then she told me to go upstairs and take off my tiara and my princess gown and wash my hands. She says I was gonna eat those brussel sprouts … but I’m not! Princess Glitter does NOT eat yucky green balls of ew!

Maybe I cried a little ’cause I was having a really bad day. Patrick came into my room and said he would make my brussel sprout wish come true. He gave me a shiny pink tiara and a hug and then I asked him for a pony and he said yes.

When I went to dinner, the brussel sprouts were on the table, and I looked at Patrick. He winked. Then the WHOLE BOWL disappeared. Mommy made a fuss, but Bryan was so happy, he gave me a high five, and Rich clapped his hands, and mommy said, whatever, let’s eat. Only she and Patrick don’t really eat ’cause they’re vampires.

After dinner, Bryan gave me a piggy-back ride and tickled me until I couldn’t laugh no more. Maybe Bryan isn’t so stupid. Or stinky. (Well, maybe a little.)

So anyway. Princess Glitter saved the day. Or would have if my wand had worked better.

The End!!!

* This story was written not long after Jessica and Patrick were married and before the pixie wish that granted vampires food privileges.

Damian cradled his head in hands. He’d been sitting in the conference room for more than an hour trying to figure out the situation. The other occupant of the room hadn’t tried to make his job easier. He sighed, straightened, and looked at the angry purple-haired Sidhe sitting across from him.

“Zerina, why did you try to set him on fire?”

Her eyes were purple, too, and though he would never admit it out loud, her gaze made him a little squeamish. She had a bad attitude, which was worsened by her temper. She was wearing a black bustier with purple ribbons, a skirt that barely covered her ass, and thigh high black boots. She always dressed like a fairy on acid. Damian was the crown prince of the full-blood lycanthropes–a title he’d given up long ago. However, he was still royal in blood, and even in thought, and not to brag, but the fiercest of his kind. He was personal security for the vampire queen, as well as the head of security for the entire town of Broken Heart. There weren’t too many creatures who could claim to inspire in him even an ounce of fear. But Zerina … well, she scared him.

“If I’d wanted to set him on fire,” she said, her English accent thick with censure, “he’d be a pile of ash.”

“So … the fire was accidental?”

“It was a barbecue! I was trying to help. He couldn’t get the cedar to light.” She fluttered her fingers. “My magic got away from me is all.”

“You know fire is bad for vampires, right?”

“I put him out, didn’t I?”

“With pink glitter.”

“I never said I was good under pressure. I was tryin’ to call up some water, I was. The glitter worked, so I don’t see the problem.”

Damian rubbed his temples. “How about the fact you dropped about a hundred pounds of it on top of him?”

“I dug him out!”

“Too bad you didn’t stop before your nails nearly gouged out his eye.”

Zerina crossed her arms and glared at Damian. He fought the urge to scoot his chair further away from her. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

If Damian didn’t know better, he would think her question actually held concern. He studied her, and realized she was a bundle of nerves. She kept shifting, chewing the tips of her nails, and plucking at the ribbons on her bustier.

“Faustus is in the hospital recovering nicely from your help.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“For the protection of the town,” said Damian. “You killed three cars and a house, remember?”

“I was worried. I’m not good at keeping my emotions in check.”

Damian silently agreed, though the main emotion Zerina displayed was hostility. But he was beginning to realize she wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be. Everyone had scars, and secrets–who knew what Zerina’s were? Maybe he was looking at this from the wrong angle. She hadn’t been acting out from a place of anger at all. The revelation surprised him.

“Go home,” he said. “Straight home. Stay there until you hear from me.”

“But Faustus…”

“If you take a single step toward the hospital, I will throw you into prison.” He met her gaze and made sure she understood he meant every word. It might take him and half the town to do it, but he’d put her in the paranormal-proof cells, if only to give Faustus the time he needed to heal from his injuries.

“Fine!” She flounced out of her chair and slammed out of the room.

Damian followed her out. After she left the building, he directed one of his men to follow her home and keep on eye on her house. He wasn’t looking forward to talking to the queen about the destroyed property. It wasn’t like Broken Heart or the Consortium didn’t have the money to replace everything … it was just a pain in the ass.

Faustus was buttoning up his shirt when Damian entered the hospital room.

“They’re already sending you home?” asked Damian.

“All this fuss is driving me crazy. I’m going to stay with Eva and Lorcan until I can start re-building my house.” He shook his head, looking more bemused about his near death experiences than angry. Faustus had once been a Roman centurion, a leader of men, a good warrior. He was part of the security team now.

Faustus had once suffered from the Taint, a vampire disease, which nearly killed him. His cure had given him the ability to shift into wolf form, but he wasn’t a true lycan. Damian understand his friend’s need to get away from the hospital; nothing affected a warrior’s ego worse than being treated like a weakling.

“Did she tell you why she was trying to kill me?” he asked. He slid off the bed and worked at putting on his shoes.

“I don’t think she was trying to kill you, Faustus.”

“She set me on fire, buried me in glitter, jabbed my eye … she really doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, I think she does.”

Faustus looked up. “What?”

“Zerina has a crush on you.”

To Damian’s surprise, Faustus grinned. “I like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to go there?” asked Damian. “She blew up your house.”

“Yeah,” said Faustus, his grin widening.

“You thought she was trying to kill you,” said Damian, making a last attempt to get the man to see reason. “Think about what it will be like dating her.”

A moment passed between the two men as they envisioned the aftermath of Zerina in love. Faustus obviously imagined something quite different from Damian because he got a dopey look on his face.

“Faustus … no, mein freind.”

“I’m going to see her,” said Faustus, clapping Damian on the shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

Zerina in love? The whole town would need luck.

Tamara LeRoy zipped her coat up to her chin and stuck her hands into her pockets. She’d forgotten her gloves and her fingers were already like Popsicles. It was freaking cold. It was October, after all, which meant Oklahoma winter would soon arrive. The Old Sass Cafe had killer hot chocolate, and she really wanted to go sit in the warm restaurant with her boyfriend and have a mug. With marshmallows.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” said Tamara.

Durriken grinned at her then looked around the cemetery. Okay then, oh mysterious boyfriend. She studied the night sky. The crescent moon offered very little light. Durriken had that great werewolf vision. Her? Not so much. She was a plain ol’ human, unlike most of the residents of Broken Heart. She might’ve left her gloves at the house, but at least she’d remembered to bring the flashlight. She flicked it on and shone it around the gravestones. She didn’t like the smell of this place. It was ripe earth mixed with that odd mold smell. A couple years ago, one of her mom’s friends had raised a zombie army from the cemetery. Things had never really gone back to normal after that. She knew better than anyone that the dead didn’t always stay dead.

“Are you scared?” Durriken had a slight accent, which she usually found sexy. Not that she would tell her mother that. She turned seventeen last month and Eva O’Halloran was wallowing in that whole “my baby is growing up” emotional goo. Tamara loved her mom, so she put up with the extra hugs and the semi-clingy behavior. Luckily, her step-father Lorcan managed to intervene when Code Red Smothering threatened.

“Not scared, Durry. Bored.”

“Liar.” He swooped her into his arms and kissed her. She tingled all the way to her toes. He moved back slightly. Their breath in the chill air created little puffs. “You know you want to see it.”

“A zombie?” Her heart, which had been beating with excitement from Durry’s kiss, dove down to her toes.

“What?” Durriken looked genuinely surprised.

“Sometimes the bodies here go zombie again. They claw up from their coffins and the dirt and meander around until someone puts them back.” Tamara looked around, spooked. “It’s something about the residual magic.”

Durriken let go of her and backed up a few steps, his expression serious as he scanned the grounds. “I wanted to see the ghost, Tamara. I didn’t know about the zombies.”

Durriken often traveled with his family, who were Roma. It was true they were werewolves, but they could only shift during the full moon, unlike the full-bloods, who could shift whenever they wanted. The Roma were also vampire hunters and often went after rogue vamps who didn’t have the same kind of felicitous feelings about humans that the Consortium vampires had. The Consortium had rolled into town a few years back and sorta taken over. It was like a paranormal think tank that wanted to one day bridge the gap between humankind and parakind. Tamara thought it was a noble goal and all, but she figured it would be a long time in coming.

Anyway.

Durriken didn’t always know what was going on in town. When he had to leave, she texted him all the time, but since zombies geeked her out, she hadn’t brought them up. Besides, they had way better things to talk about that the shuffling, stank-ass dead.

Then Durry’s words filtered through her thoughts. The cold must be freezing her brain. “What ghost?”

“The lady in white. During the crescent moon, she crosses the graveyard looking for her lost love.”

“Nuh-uh.” Tamara closed the gap between them and grabbed his hand. “I’ve never heard of this ghost, and I live here.”

“Phoebe told me about her,” said Durriken. Phoebe ran the Old Sass Cafe; she’d lived here her whole life, and subsequent unlife. She was nice, kinda fun, and had the cutest kid, a little boy named Danny. “The lady in white has been haunting the town forever. Phoebe said when she was in high school, her and her friends would come down here and watch for her.”

Tamara wondered if her mother knew about this ghost. Mom was the unofficial historian of the town; she collected tons of stories for the archives.

“Who is she supposed to be?” asked Tamara.

Durry shrugged. “Phoebe didn’t know her name. Said she was a bride who died on her wedding night. She was in love with another man, but married someone else. And her husband strangled her.”

“There are a lot of holes in that story,” said Tamara. But she was already thinking about what research could be done to figure out this little mystery. “She knows all the details, but not her name? And ‘lady in white’? Really? Like there aren’t a hundred of those around. This screams urban legend.”

“Sometimes urban legends are true.”

Tamara couldn’t argue with that. Her mother was a vampire and her boyfriend was a werewolf. She couldn’t dismiss the possibility that some ghostly bride wandered around Broken Heart’s graveyard every so often.

Durry drew her into his embrace. “You’re cold.”

“Freezing.”

“Wanna go to the Cafe?”

“You’re giving up on the lady in white?”

“I just wanted to get you alone so we could make out.”

“How’s that working out?”

He kissed her again, splitting the seam of her lips with his tongue. He was a really good kisser. She got the tingles again, and it felt as though the world had shifted. When they finally came up for air, her legs felt like wet noodles. He stared at her, and she stared at him, and thought they’d talked about, you know, going all the way, she wasn’t ready. Her mom had been a teenager when she’d gotten pregnant with Tamara. She gave up everything, including school, to get a job and support her kid. Besides the werewolves sorta had a thing about actually mating with humans. She knew Durry’s parents liked her, but they really wanted their son to be with another Roma.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Durry kissed her one more time, very softly, then took her hand and led her to his car. Within minutes, they were on their way to the Old Sass Cafe for hot chocolate and hand-holding. For now, it was enough.

In the graveyard underneath the crescent moon, the ghost of a woman clad in bridal white moved through the tombstones, silent tears tracking her pale cheeks as she mourned the loss of true love.

“Where the hell is that damned box?” I paused and looked over my shoulder. I don’t know why I bothered. We were in the attic of the house on Sanderson Street, which was where I’d lived with my kids while I was alive, and for a little while as a vampire. It’s a long story. Anyway, my family and I had moved back into the house after vacating the Silverstone mansion. I wasn’t too sorry about leaving there–it was huge, dusty, and a bitch to clean. Also, I got a lost. A lot.

“She’s not here, Jessica,” said my husband. My sexy Irish vampire bent over a trunk and dug through the contents. “And quit lookin’ at my ass.”

“I wasn’t,” I protested, moving my gaze away from his butt. (P.S. Fantastic view, peeps. Better naked, but hey, I’ll take it where I can get it.) As for the “she” Patrick was talking about–that was my daughter, Jenny aka She Who Rules the Bad Words. My inability to stop cursing had put enough money in the Cussing Jar to pay for a Wii. Needless to say, I was paranoid. Jenny popped up out of nowhere with that damned jar. I think she’s saving up for a PlayStation 3. Or college.

Patrick straightened. Cobwebs clung to his longish black hair. He plucked them out and sighed. “You know we’re rich, right? Wealthy beyond measure. I could buy you new decorations. I could buy you entire factory that made decorations.”

“But these are family decorations,” I whined. “Stuff the kids made. Like that Frankenstein Bryan made from a coffee can … and that pumpkin candle thingie that Jenny painted in 2nd grade.”

“I can buy you new children.”

“Patrick!”

He grinned; and lust zipped through me as hot and quick as lightning. He knew it, too, because his smile went all sexy. “Screamin’ is traditional on Halloween, isn’t it?”

“It’s not Halloween.”

“I still want to explore the screamin’ issue. We should practice, I think.”

Patrick tended to blur my good judgment, well, what little I actually had. It’s not like I’d ever get a medal for good decision making. Still, I felt like I should at least try to accomplish the mission that had brought us to the attic.

“The sooner we find the decorations,” I said, being all practical and responsible, “the sooner we can get to that screaming thing.”

Patrick drew me into his arms and kissed me until I couldn’t feel my toes. Then he stepped back and looked down at me, tender desire illuminating his silver gaze. “As you wish.”

“Don’t even try, Sucky McSuckpants.”

He laughed. Then he let go of me and headed toward the opposite corner. I followed him to another towering pile of boxes, none of which I’d bothered to label. We each took a box. I found baby clothes; Patrick found Christmas lights.

The last box held the treasures I was looking for. Most of the items had been created by either Jenny or Bryan. When Rich, Jr. got older, I imagined he’d make a few things to add to my trove. He was my adopted son (part of that long story I mentioned earlier) and I loved him to the bottom of my undead heart.

Something glittered among the paper mache witches and the orange and black paper chains. I plucked it and held it up to the wavering yellow light that barely cut into the dark attic. Not that Patrick and I needed too much light. Our vamp vision was awesome.

The gemstone was orange, in a teardrop shape, and about the size of a kiwi. I’d never seen it before and I wondered how it had gotten into the box of Halloween goodies.

“Let me see it, love.”

I handed it to Patrick and he spent a quiet minute studying it. “There’s magic here,” he said.

“Uh-oh. The good kind, or the bad kind?”

“I don’t know. It’s too faint to tell.”

“Well, let’s give it to someone who can figure out what it is.”

“Dr. Michaels then.” Patrick stood and picked up the box of decorations. Because he was part Sidhe, he could fly, so he lowered himself through the attic trapdoor easily. I could do the same trick, but I choose to use the ladder.

When we got to the kitchen, Patrick put the box on the table. We’d wait until the kids got home from school to go through the stuff. Rich, Jr. was hanging out with his grandpa, and I was only slightly worried Ruadan was somewhere doing something he shouldn’t.

Patrick took out the gem and examined it again. “It looks kinda familiar.” He handed it to me and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “I’m goin’ to call Stan and hand it over to him. Maybe he can figure out what it is.”

How had something magical ended up in my attic in a bunch of Halloween decorations? I’d never seen it before. Had one of the kids found it last year and just thrown into the box thinking it was Halloween-y?

Patrick finished his phone call. “Dr. Michaels will pick it up later.”

“You know what I wish I had?” I asked, rubbing the gem. It was feeling a little hot. I didn’t have a pulse, much less a temperature, so it wasn’t me generating the heat.

“Chocolate?”

“Why do you always assume that’s my wish?”

“Because it always is.”

“This time it’s something different.”

Patrick looked at me, a smile flirting on his lips.

“I want those Godiva pecan pie truffles.” I grinned. “In bed. With you.”

He laughed and wrapped is arms around me. He leaned down for a kiss then paused.

Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.

“Dead you hear that?” I asked.

Patrick looked at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Really? Why do you try to work ‘dead’ into every sentence?”

“‘Cause I still think it’s funny.”

“That makes one of us.”

We hurried up the stairs, following the odd sounds to our bedroom. Patrick opened the door and we peered inside.

Little foil-wrapped balls were raining onto the bed. Thanks to my vampire nose, I could smell the gourmet delight that was Godiva. I pushed past Patrick, who protested and tried to grab my arm, but hel-lo, ain’t nothing or no one getting between me and a freaking bed full of Godiva.

I grabbed one of the truffles, unwrapped it, and stuffed into my mouth. “Oh, my sweet lord,” I said, “it really is a pecan pie truffle.”

“Jessica, where’s the stone?”

I tossed him the gem and crawled onto the bed. I made a space, said a brief prayer of thanks that I no longer had to worry about widening my ass, and started unwrapping truffles.

“You made a wish while holding this,” he said.

I glanced at him, a half-unwrapped truffle in my hand. “Do you think it has more wishes?”

“I think if it does, it’s a very dangerous object.”

“Well, Stan will figure it out. We can lock up it the Consortium vault, but right now…” I patted the bed. “We have chocolate. All we need is nakedness.”

Patrick locked our bedroom door, put the weird orange gem onto the nightstand, and then climbed onto the bed, pushing aside the truffles. From that look in his eyes, I had a feeling things were about to get messy.

In a screamingly good way.