Driftwood - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,4

to plop me into another grave. And you" she snarled, as sand showered from her hair, her face, fell from her shoulders and her clothes and fangs— fangs?—and hit the beach. "I'm starving and it's all—your—fault!" So saying, she lunged forward, fastened to Burke's shoulders like a lamprey, and sank her teeth into the side of his neck.

Chapter Five

It took the combined strength of Jeannie and Michael, plus a lot of tugging and yelling and threatening, before the dead woman was pulled off. Everyone was scratched and bleeding before it was over.

"Don't talk to me," the dead woman said, wiping the blood off her chin and backing away from them. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't bury me."

"But… you…" Jeannie groped for the words and ended up waving her arms in the air like a cheerleader who'd forgotten her routine. "You can't… you…"

Michael cleared his throat. "Ma'am, you're dead. You have no scent, you have no pulse. You, uh, should lie down and be dead."

"Aw, shut the hell up." She whirled and pointed a dirty finger at Burke, who had been trying to figure out if he was terrified or relieved. "And you! The number of your gross offenses against me grows by the hour! The half hour! Now leave. Me. Alone!"

She whirled and stomped away, her fists clenching as she heard all three of them hurry after her.

She turned back. "Leave. Me. Alone. Any of that unclear? Any of you not speak such good English?"

"I get it!" Jeannie cried with the hysterical good humor of a Jeopardy! contestant. "You're a vampire!"

"No, she isn't," Burke and Michael said in unison.

The body stomped her foot, and all three of them took a step back. "Of course I'm a vampire, morons! What else would I be?

A Sasquatch? Nessie?"

"There are no such thing as vampires," Michael said gently. "I think you must have gone into shock when you were buried and that protected you until we could rescue you—"

" Rescue me?"

"And the whole thing has been too much for your system and now you think—"

"Oh, what crap. I don't need to breathe, ergo, I didn't suffocate, and I couldn't get out of the hole during the day. Ergo, I wasn't buried alive. Are you honestly telling me that werewolves don't believe in vampires?"

"The existence of one doesn't prove the other," Michael said stiffly. "I believe in witches, but that doesn't mean I believe in leprechauns."

"How'd you know they were werewolves?" Jeannie asked, examining the scratch on her left elbow.

"Because Boy Scout lost all his little tiny marbles, went into a screaming fit worthy of a Beatles fan, turned into a wolf, and jumped out of a twelve-foot hole. Call me crazy."

"Crazy," Jeannie said brightly.

Burke touched the bite mark on his neck, which was already scabbing over. It would explain a lot: her relative calm at being in such a fix, her utter lack of scent, and, of course, her walking and talking after being buried alive for more than twenty-four hours.

All his life, he had been told legends of wolves and fairies and water witches, and a grizzled beta had once claimed to have seen a demon, but never had he heard of a vampire, or even seen one.

Until, obviously, now.

"You're alive," he said, and it was impossible to keep the relief out of his voice, though he tried. Despite his efforts, both Jeannie and Michael turned and gave him odd looks.

"Newsflash, Boy Scout: I've been dead for forty years. Sorry about the… you know—" She gestured vaguely in their direction: all three were scratched, bitten, disheveled, sandy. "I was hungry and the thirst got a little away from me. Now, I gotta go. I'd eat a rat just for the chance to have a hot shower."

Without another word, she turned and moved off into the dunes.

Burke looked at his pack leaders. "Good-bye," he said simply.

Michael stuck out his hand and they shook. "I guess we won't be seeing you for a while. If ever."

"What?" Jeannie asked.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I guess it's up to… to… I don't even know her name."

"We'll keep your house for you. Everything that's yours will always be here for you."

"What?" Jeannie asked again.

"Thank you, Michael. I appreciate your help tonight. Do I have your leave to go?"

"You have my leave, O brother, and good hunting and many cubs," he replied, the formal good-bye of a pack leader releasing a beta male from his care.

"You're going after her? You've decided you're going to