Read Fashionably Dead for Free Online

bailed and went back to Heaven?”
    “No,” Gemma replied thoughtfully. “I think she’s actually having fun down here.”
    Turns out, Pam had teleported back to my house. She said I drove like a blind person on crack and she couldn’t take it. She napped for about four hours after that. Just so happens, teleporting really wears a gal out. All in all . . . just another weird day in my brand new weird fucked up life.
    “All right, back to work,” Pam said with a mouthful of chips. “Tell me the history, or whatever your sorry ass can remember.”
    “Give me a little credit here,” I snapped as I wracked my brain, desperately trying to remember the bizarro History of the Vampyre. Shit. “There are, um, ten Dominions,” I began, “each run by a Warrior Prince or Warrior Princess.”
    “What else?” Pam asked.
    “Ease up,” I told her. “The Dominions are territories. Basically they divided up the whole world into ten sections and the King gave a section to each of his ten children. Wait, I thought he had eleven children.”
    “He did—one died.”
    “Oh, okay,” I said wearily, praying this would be over soon.
    “Name the Dominions,” Pam said.
    I stretched my arms up over my head, yawned and brought them back down about face level. I began to massage my hands, left palm facing me. “Okay,” I said, “let me see . . . there’s North America, South America, Africa, Australia, Antarctica, Europe, and Asia is divided into four Dominions since it’s so large and diverse.”
    “Give me your hand,” Pam said.
    “No.”
    “Give. Me. Your. Hand.”
    I gave her my hand and she slapped me upside the head. I was busted. Thank God I was a Vampyre or else she would have given me a concussion instead of just a headache.
    “You’re cheating!” she shouted.
    “I can’t remember all this junk,” I said shamefully and looked down at my palm where I’d written all the answers to the questions I knew she’d ask.
    “Damn it to hell,” Pam bellowed. “This is not high school. This information could mean the difference between life and death for you.”
    “I’m already dead,” I snapped.
    “Yeah, but you could be deader—like for real dead. How would you like that, little missy?” Pam demanded.
    “Not much,” I admitted morosely.
    “Did you even read the manual? Do you have any idea what can kill you?”
    “I think so,” I whispered. I started to ease my way out of the room. I knew Pam was coming for me again, and she had a mean right hook.
    “Don’t,” Pam said quietly. A quiet Pam was a scary Pam.
    I flopped down on the couch, ready to get ripped a good one. I was an A student in high school and college. For some reason, I couldn’t absorb this stuff. Maybe it’s not that I couldn’t, it’s that I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to be a Vampyre. Vampyres were freaks of nature. Vampyres didn’t even exist. I did not want an expletive-spewing Angel to be my main food source.
    I wanted to eat chips and salsa and smoke and see my reflection. I wanted to go out in broad daylight and not have to wear a shitload of sunscreen, long sleeves, long pants, a hat and huge sunglasses. I wanted to have kids someday, but that was no longer an option, what with no functioning internal organs.
    I did not want to have to worry about being staked through the heart with silver or being decapitated. Let’s not forget about burning to death . . . wouldn’t want to leave that little nugget out. Those are the three real ways to kill a Vampyre. What about holy water, crosses, sunlight, and garlic? All bullshit . . . they’d just make a Vampyre laugh or piss them off. All Hollywood fairytales, although there was some truth to the sunlight myth. While it wouldn’t kill a Vamp, it could burn their skin quite badly. Who wants to look like a bloody piece of meat even for a short while?
    I never really needed or wanted to know where every major artery in a human was so I wouldn’t nick it with my razor sharp fangs,