Fangtabulous (23 page)

“I’m afraid.”

I reached out a hand, and her wispy fingers closed on it. “You are the bravest little girl I know. You’re a tigress. Remember that.”

She gave me a tremulous smile and turned her face to the light, taking a step away from me, then another, still holding my hand, letting it slide from hers until we barely touched fingertips.

“What do you see?” I asked past a lump in my throat.

But nothing else existed for her any more. She was being pulled into the light, a smile growing on her face that it hurt to look on. Rapture. Something I’d never get to experience. As even her fingertips left mine, the light exploded into a golden-white supernova of sparks and then she was gone. Just … gone.

I blinked away blood tears and saw Bobby gazing down at me with so much love and concern that it was like my very own slice of heaven.

“Bobby?” I asked, sounding like I’d been gargling acid. “Is it … just you in there?”

He let his head drop to mine, going nose to nose with me and saying a little prayer of thanks before raising his head again to smile.

“Just me. I think the spell worked. I’m alone in here. The spirits seem to be at rest. But we need to get you some help.”

I looked around—at Brent with an oncoming black eye and a bloody arm where a crossbow bolt must have grazed him, then at Chaz and Tina, crumpled like linen on the floor, downed by my new team. I took in the stunned coven who’d filed out of the theater, Ulric and Olivia standing unconsciously close to each other, and my own blood decorating the wall behind and floor beneath me. I wondered what on earth we were going to do about it all. How did we clean up this mess?

Chip echoed that thought. “You trashed my store!”

“Very authentic,” Irish said, “Decorating with real blood.”

Chip didn’t look charmed, but it gave me an idea.

“How do you feel about coming out of the closet?” I asked them all.

“What closet?” Chip asked.

“Obscurity,” I answered. “Look, you might have noticed that we’re a little … different … from the rest of you. Just like you’re different than we are, with what you can do. Special. People are going to fear that, or want to use it or whatever. Our secrecy means they can do it without scrutiny; no watchdogs, no one to tell them they can’t. We tried to come out once to the media back when we were first … vamped.” It was surprisingly hard to say, after trying to keep it under wraps for so long. “But the Feds swept it under the rug. Now, though, if we provide witnesses and proof—if people know about us—maybe the authorities will come to us next time something like this happens, and the threat can be put down before anyone gets hurt.”

Bobby put an arm around me. “Look at you, speechifying.” It was said with pride.

“Who is with me?” I asked, knowing I had at least one on my side. Always. “I think it’s time to tell the world. With any luck, the Feds’ll be too busy with damage control to worry about coming after us.”

“You’re crazy,” Chip said. “And anyway, the world knows about witches. We’re not exactly undercover. People
know
. They just don’t believe.”

“Maybe it’s time to change all that,” I answered.

“Count me out,” the hippy chick said, surprising me. She stepped away from the coven and flashed us an apologetic smile as she headed for the door. “The school I work for isn’t that open-minded. I’m sorry.”

Irish looked at the rest of his people, lingering on Chip, who was also surveying the coven, getting nods or shrugs or whatever passed for agreement.

“We’re in,” Chip answered for them all.

I smiled, for the first time since the white light had come and gone without me. “Good. Because as far as I’m concerned,
you’re
the heroes of this piece. You laid the ghosts to rest, saved the town, et cetera and so forth. There won’t be any witch hunt
this
time.”

“Until they find out that magic started the whole thing,” Olivia said.

“People need to know it all—the good, the bad, and the ugly,” I declared. “No more secrets. It’s up to you to make sure people know the difference between what Rebecca’s done and what you do.”

In the end, we made the call.

And, more importantly, Bobby, Brent, Marcy, and I stayed for the interview.

The End.

©
Olan Mills

About the Author

Lucienne Diver writes humorous vamps, because it’s hard to take life seriously when your puppy sits under your desk licking your toes as you type. Her heroine, Gina, got her start in
Vamped
and, as will come as no surprise to those who’ve read it, subsequently decided she wanted more, more, MORE! Thus, one book became two and two became four. Next, Gina’d love an appearance on the big screen, if only she can find someone fabulous enough to play herself. You can learn more about the author on her website, www.luciennediver.com.