Spectricity Books

A little sample from the book:

Later, I’m relaxed and groggy, switching on the TV for that movie we rented. Susie is looking for the prey I caught earlier for a snack. Little does she know I got into the snack box.

My phone buzzes. Oh man, it’s Vincent. I couldn’t take a picture of him, so I used a picture of Damon Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries instead. All my vampire contacts have these awkward horror show pictures to identify them. Larry has Nosferatu. Susie has Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Psyche’s is Satanico Pandemonium, the vampire queen from the movie From Dusk till Dawn.

I answer reluctantly since it has been such a long night, and what can he possibly want while the sun is up?

“Harold, my man,” he breathes heavily into the phone. “Listen, bro, I need you to go to the club. My hacker minion morphed into a cyborg and is over there about to blow it up.”

What’s this garbage? Why is it always something with him?

“It’s eleven thirty in the morning,” I say. Which he should realize is the time we supernaturals like to be asleep.

“You know I can’t do it.” He starts to whine at me. “Come on, Harold, please?”

“I just came from there,” I tell him. “We had a full buffet. I feel like I won’t be able to move for a week.”

“Please . . .” He’s so miserably pathetic. His voice cracks, and he mentions that he got blasted by a few solar rays earlier. “Nothing too crucial burned off.”

“I’m holed up with Susie, and we were about to watch some flicks,” I say, yawning. “Neither one of us wants to go out. Well, she can’t. But I definitely don’t want to. Because well fed. And happy.” I snuggle up to her.

“Duh, you mean I’m well fed and I’m happy.” Now he’s correcting my grammar! Maybe he really is a forty-seven-year-old geezer after all.

Anyway, it’s not like he’s so wonderful at stating what he means. But the soul connection between us tugs at me to serve my alpha, protect him, do as he asks.

Another time! I’m way too comfortable and satisfied to go anywhere, and last night was so long and awful.

“Vinnie, I don’t want to.” Now I am the one whining. “For reasons.”

He starts booming his vampire voice at me, which sounds like it goes up ten decibels and deepens to a bass so low, it literally vibrates the phone.

So kind of like the singer in some old death metal. It hurts my ears, but it’s mainly annoying, not scary.

“Since when have reasons ever been a good enough explanation for anything?” He’s throwing a fit like a vampire toddler. “Who is the vamp who got you this werewolf gig, anyway?”

I want to tell him that draining my blood and leaving me for dead in an alley doesn’t exactly equate to giving me a job recommendation.

But he’s my alpha.

“You,” I say, making my voice humble.

“And would you and Susie have got together otherwise?” he demands, his voice now back to a tenor that occasionally squeaks.

Wow, the nerve. The sheer gall of this guy.

I try to deflect by saying, “Well, I mean . . . maybe. We did go to the same club that night, and we live in the same neighborhood, and we were both taking college classes in accounting, so the odds of us running into each other . . .”

“That’s beside the point!” More toddler screaming. “Remember who your alpha is! I’m telling you to get your overstuffed werewolf ass down to that club and put the halt on Tylerius!”

Susie murmurs, “Harold, did you get snacks? Are we going to watch the movie?”

I nod, my ear pressed against the flat rectangle of my smartphone.

“Yes, dear,” I say. “Let me get off the phone with this fanged irritation first.”

And then Vinnie does the other thing he’s famous for—losing concentration. He starts bugging me about what we’re watching, and he loses his shit when he hears the movie has a Walkman in it. He wants to come over immediately.

“Uh . . .” I don’t see how he’s going to do this. I try to distract him. “Well, does it mean I don’t have to go battle your immortal enemy at the club?”

“Shee-yeah, possibly,” he says. He pauses like he is listening. “Let me call you back, dude.”

Oh, sweet relief! I am fumbling to cut the call so fast, then Susie says, “Harry, you ate all the snacks,” in a cranky voice. Darn, she caught me.

“They were dead anyway.” I hit the button and disconnect the call. It seems I have evaded fighting Vincent’s battles for now.