Read Online The Fertile Vampire by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online

the parking lot. Felipe knelt beside her. Meng turned, stared at me, white-faced, then ran behind a car. I heard the sound of retching and after glancing at Opie again, I couldn’t blame him.  
    My sweater was drenched in blood turned black by the bluish parking lot lights. The hood, where Opie’s head should have been, was curiously misshapen. Felipe reached out but stopped himself from touching her.  
    "Is she dead?" I asked, my voice sounding strangled.  
    Felipe nodded, then sat back, his hands splayed on his thighs.  
    "They didn't stop," I said, staring at the parking lot exit.  
    Felipe turned to look at me.  
    “It wasn’t a hit and run,” Kenisha said from behind me.  
    I turned. Her shoulders blocking out the light behind her. “This was deliberate. Someone killed Opie on purpose.”  
    She spread her legs, looking at me like I was a cockroach she was going to stomp to death.  
    I wisely kept my mouth shut.

C HAPTER E LEVEN

    Things that howl in the night

    I don’t like Death. I’ve always thought of it as an enemy, something stalking me from the day I was born. To me the Grim Reaper is the perfect picture of Death, wrapped in a brownish gray monk’s robe complete with a bony finger beckoning me closer.  
    Whenever anyone close to me died I could almost hear Death cackling and making a mark on an invisible chalkboard. Death - 1, Marcie - 0.  
    Maybe that’s why I chose to become a vampire, a darling of the dead, a nobkin of the night, a fanganista. (I have to come up with a better name one of these days.) I didn’t want Death to win again.  
    But Death was breathing down the back of my neck right now, chortling in the shadows, giggling maniacally as I answered the questions put to me by the police.  
    Detective Joe Halston was a heavyset man with jowls like a bulldog and surprisingly kind eyes. Gray hair turned bluish in the parking lot lights fell over his forehead. A crease in his left cheek made me wonder if he’d been sleeping before coming here. The black windbreaker he wore didn’t look thick enough to hold off the cold.
    His voice growled as he asked me questions he’d probably already asked the others.  
    Did I see the license plate? No, I hadn’t been close enough. Nor had I even thought to look, which is probably a clue to my naiveté .
    Did I know the make of the pickup? I don’t know anything about trucks. One of them looks the same as the next. All I knew was it was big, bigger than the average size pickup truck and black.
    Did I know of anyone who would want to hurt Ophelia Richardson? I hadn’t even known her last name. Wasn’t that a clue to how much a stranger she was?  
    She would have hated dying, especially since she’d planned her transition so carefully. She would have hated dying the way she had, with her skull crushed and her face… Well, her face had been unrecognizable.  
    Poor Meng had gotten sick every time he’d glanced over at the body. Felipe was a rock, however, becoming almost paternal toward me.  
    I let him.  
    If he wanted to put his arm around me when I started to shake, that was okay. If he wanted to give me his jacket, I was fine with that, too. If he wanted to run interference between me and Kenisha the Cop, that was even better.  
    Where was Il Duce when I needed him? Maybe I should call him. I gave the thought about five seconds before dismissing it.  
    Felipe finally moved away and I was left standing by the parking lot light, the pose reminding me of the musical, Cats. I’m sure I’d be placed in a mobile padded cell if I started to sing about withered leaves, moaning wind, and memories.  
    “You’ve had an eventful night,” Il Duce said from behind me.  
    I whirled, startled. I hadn’t heard him arrive. For that matter, I hadn’t seen his car. Had he flown in?  
    “Can you change to a bat?”  
    “Pardon?”  
    “Do you have the power to turn into a bat?” I asked, enunciating each word.  
    He frowned at me, an