to take me in anew, looking over my tattoos. “I don’t think Satan ever made a flower, or a jewel, or anything for that matter. Savannah really said that?” He sighed, patting her head. “I need to have a talk with her. I have two tattoos.”
“You have tattoos?” I said, surprised.
“On my shoulder,” he admitted, taking a blanket from Phil. “One says Leviticus 19:28, back from when I was a biker fresh out of Special Forces, and the second one says John 3:16, which I got when I went into seminary.”
“Cute,” I laughed. The quote from Leviticus prohibited tattoos; the John one promised salvation through faith, not works. The second sort of canceled the first, but—”I wouldn’t have done either of them. I don’t do religious marks.”
Canon Grace’s eyes narrowed at my hands, and I stared down at the symbology of the world’s major religions tattooed across my knuckles. “Well, not on anyone else, at any rate.”
“And why is that?” he asked, mildly surprised.
“They’re forbidden by traditional Christianity, and sacred in other traditions,” I said. “I can take responsibility for inking myself, but I’m not a priest and I don’t do sacred. I don’t believe all that mumbo-jumbo, even if crosses do make vampires break out in hives.”
“That’s just a psychic/psychological effect,” Canon Grace said, patting Savannah’s head. “Our little Christian bloodsucker here proves that.”
I stared down at her, then up at him. “I can’t believe you can condone that—”
“It would not be my choice of diet, but I think Savannah’s proved you can make the lifestyle into something morally neutral, if not even admirable,” the priest said. “And contrary to what some people say, God doesn’t take sides. Even when he directed the Hebrews to take the Holy Land, he told Joshua son of Nun—”
“He came neither for them nor their enemies,” I said, waving my hand. “Yeah, yeah—Stratton Christian Academy, Bible Bowl, eighth grade champ.”
“Good,” the priest said, laughing. “My point is, God cares about what you do, why you do it and most importantly what—who—you believe in , not whether you’ve traded sunlight and liquid food for longer life. How is condemning vampires really any different from saying someone’s going to hell for eating food and punishing their bodies on a treadmill?”
“I can see why Savannah likes you,” I said, and I wasn’t sure it was a compliment.
“I didn’t start out like this,” he said, patting her head. “Back when she first turned I told her you’re going to haaail, but since then, ‘by their fruits shall ye know them’—”
There were voices in the hall, and I craned my neck slowly. Alex Nicholson entered, followed by Christopher Valentine.
“No, I’m not being rude,” he snapped back at Alex. “I’m tired of all the tricks these goddam charlatans play. I want to see for myself—”
Then his eyes took me in and widened in shock. “Jesus Christ.”
“Language, Mister Valentine,” Jinx said reprovingly.
“Thought I was faking it to get out of the challenge, didn’t you?” I said, and embarrassment spread over his sharp features. More than one target of the Valentine Challenge had become conveniently unable to continue. I held up my bandaged hand and wriggled the fingers. “You don’t get off that easy. We’re still on.”
The shock and embarrassment in his face spread into a wide, delighted grin. “Hear that?” he said, elbowing Alex. “I look forward to it, Miss Frost.”
And then Savannah awoke, stretching like a cat. “Oh, Dakota,” she said, smiling sleepily, “it’s so good to see you awake.”
And then she yawned, showing her shocking canines.
Vampire fangs are huge, sharp and pointed like a cat’s, larger than you’d expect; even the lateral incisors have a bit of an edge to them. Brand new vampires often have dental problems, but that’s OK; Savannah tells me the self-healing nature of their bodies helps the mouth adapt over time. Honestly, the sight of her vamp teeth never bothered me before, but now—
I twitched, flashing on Transomnia’s canines, on his face, on his cold, red eyes. On all the things he did to me—and threatened to do. It was too much. I twitched and looked away. There was a tremendous pressure on my bladder, and I squeezed my legs together.
Her yawn ended, and she caught me looking away. “What’s the matter—” and then she got it, all of a sudden, closing her mouth and throwing her hand over it. She stared at me in horror for one brief moment, realizing that I couldn’t separate her from them, that I hated and feared