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years in Uncle Gio’s world.
    My parents were convinced my uncle had just had a rotten string of luck, but I knew the truth. While Uncle Gio was rich, cultured, and good-looking, he was also one of the few vampires with a bad sense of humor. I’d heard my uncle tell enough knock-knock jokes to suspect that my aunt Jean hadn’t just fallen three stories onto a flagpole by accident. Ditto for Aunt Gwen, who’d mistaken a bottle of holy water for her favorite Chardonnay, and Aunt Monique, who’d mistaken a bulb of garlic for soap and dropped about two dozen into her nightly bath.
    “…let me introduce you to Stella Burbank’s oldest son. His name is Paul, and he’s got a very impressive fertility rating. He’s absolutely perfect for you. Or he will be if you forget this crazy idea and let your father give you a real job—” Click.
    I’d crossed the room and hit the off button with my toe. I punched delete and turned toward my bedroom.
    I already had a real job and it felt…good.
    I was tired, my mind in a mental scramble from thinking so much, and I was exhausted. A smile played at the corner of my mouth. While I’d been ready to drop more times than I could count—from dancing all night at one of my favorite haunts, or having a midnight gabfest with my girlfriends—this was different. I felt as if I’d actually done something tonight.
    I checked the blinds to make sure they were secure; while I wasn’t going to go up in smoke from a little indirect sunlight, it was murder on the complexion. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers up to my neck, closed my eyes, and conjured my most favorite fantasy—me, the beach, a few margaritas, and Orlando Bloom.
    Oh, and a pink Donna Karan hand-stitched bikini with conch shells dangling from the straps.
    Now, that was a fantasy.

“…I t’s your destiny to work at Moe’s…”
    My mother’s voice peeled back the blanket of happy I was currently buried under and slid into my ears.
    “…not to mention, it’s your duty. You’re a Marchette. We are Moe ’ s…”
    Sleep tried to suck me back under, unwilling to give me up before sunset. I could still feel the exhaustion in my body. A feeling that only eased when night fell.
    “…even your cousin Victor is stepping up to do his share. He called your father just last night. He’s the last person I expected to hear from since he’s still mixed up with whatshername…”
    “Whatshername” referred to Victor’s wife, Leeanne. Leeanne came from a long line of werevamps. And what, pray tell, is a werevamp? Think Dracula meets the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. See, a long time ago one of my ancestors jumped ship and got jiggy with a werewolf. Then, before anyone could say boo, said vampire ended up pregnant. Who woulda thunk it? Anyhow, the rest is history, and now there’s an entire race of vampires/werewolves running around the planet. Or corrupting it, as my father would say. The only thing he hated more than werevamps were made vampires. My family is so totally into the we’re-better-than-you-are-because-we’re-the-elite-race mentality.
    Not that the fuss everyone had made had stopped Victor. He’d fallen hard and fast for Leeanne—proof beyond a doubt of the big L. That’s love, not lust. Then again, I suppose it could be lust as well. Or just lust all by its lonesome. Those werevamps were majorly irresistible (boy, did I know that one firsthand). To make a long story short, Victor hooked up with Leeanne five years ago, and the family disowned him. Until now. My father had such a soft spot for anyone wearing lime green.
    “…he’s had divided loyalties in the past, but he obviously knows what he should be doing. He’s family and family sticks together. They don’t pack up and move out on some crazy matchmaking whim…”
    A dream, I told myself. I was still sleeping the sleep of the dead, and the voice echoing through my head was just my imagination. No decent, respectable, sane vampire would be up