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similar-colored eyes. That’s where our resemblance ended. I barely hit five feet three. She was at least five-nine without the kinky go-go boots she wore. “I can’t believe you eat dat garbage. Consider de vampire route. Believe me, you’ll be more satisfied.”
    “Just because they don’t contain AB-negative filling doesn’t mean they’re not delicious.”
    Edith Anne strutted around the counter and glared down at me. “They look disgusting.”
    I really wasn’t in a mood for her attitude. I smiled and rammed one in her mouth. The others laughed as she choked it down. I could tell she liked it, but Edith wasn’t the type to admit it. She was the type, however, to put me down every chance she got.
    I picked up a bun to munch on. “You’re just ticked because Misha made you give up your presents.” I’d dragged myself out of bed to find a key tied with a bow and a flat velvet case lying on my kitchen table. The case held a stunning diamond and platinum necklace Misha had given Edith for Christmas, and the key just so happened to start Agnes’s brand-new Shelby Mustang. I had to give it to Misha—he knew how to hit the naughty Catholics below the gold-digging belts. I couldn’t have come up with a more creative punishment and, whether the ingrates knew it or not, it had spared their undead asses.
    Edith wiped the dripping filling on her chin with the back of her hand and hissed, “I don’t care what anyone says. You’ll make a shitty vampire.”
    I crossed my arms. “What’s with all the vampire talk?”
    Agnes Concepción draped her long pigtails over her breasts and adjusted her tiny librarian-looking glasses. It was something I’d noticed she did when her patience was wearing thin. She had supernatural eyesight; she didn’t need the stupid glasses. Hank told me she’d started wearing them to enhance her naughty schoolgirl persona. And yet as ridiculous as I thought her entire getup was, I had to admit she was pretty brilliant. Agnes was the expert on, well, everything, be it rare species of monkeys or even rarer species of demons. “Come on, Celia,” she griped. “With everything that’s happened between you and the master, it’s the obvious next step.”
    “Ah, no, it’s not.” I finished my bun and wiped my hands with a kitchen towel. “I hate to break it to you, girlfriends, but there’s nothing between Misha and me.”
    Liz stopped filing her nails, at first I thought to ram her file in my eye. The fact that I didn’t bang Misha like a pair of cymbals bugged the bejeezus out of her. Unlike Maria and Agnes, Liz didn’t do business or academia. Liz just did Liz. She’d become their little leader after she’d won the fight for dominance. She sneered, mostly to show off her new set of choppers. “You may not be bedding the master, but you’re a fool to think there’s nothing between you.”
    “I’m serious.”
    Edith circled me with an evil gleam in her stare. Like the rest of them, she was very tall, thin, and beautiful. The good Catholics were often mistaken for runway models and used their charms to get anything they desired. For some reason, they didn’t feel the need to be charming around me. Edith bent forward. Her gaze raked down my neck to my breasts. She licked her lips and her pupils dilated. It was similar to the way I reacted at the sight of a cheeseburger. “I see the marks we left on you have disappeared.” She lengthened her incisors as she smiled. “Would you like more, so the master can tend to them as well?”
    I smiled back. She didn’t scare me in the least. “Go ahead. Emme would love that new Porsche Boxster Misha gave you for your birthday.”
    Edith’s olive skin paled. The others cracked up. Besides prom night, there was nothing they enjoyed more than laughing at someone else’s expense.
    •   •   •
    “Faster.”
    I groaned. “ Misha .”
    “Faster, my love, faster.” He laughed when I snarled. “If it pleases you, I can push