"So what do you do to vampires?" Someone knocked on the door.
I hadn't heard anyone drive up, but I'd been a little distracted.
"Don't let them in your home in the first place," suggested Adam.
Mom, who'd been on the way to the door, stopped.
"Is this likely to be a vampire?" "Better let me get it," I said.
I wiggled my arm, and Stefan released me and took a better grip on Adam.
"Are you all right, Adam?" "He's too weak to feed fast," Adam commented.
"I'm good for a while yet.
If you'll get my phone out for me and hit the speed dial, I'll call for some more wolves, though.
I doubt one feeding will be enough." With Mom watching, I behaved myself while I dug his phone out of the holder on his belt.
Instead of taking the time to sort through his contacts, I just punched in his house number and handed him the ringing phone.
Whoever was outside was growing impatient.
I straightened my shirt and took a quick look at myself to make sure there wasn't anything that said, "Hey, I have a vampire in my house." I was going to have a bruise on my forearm, but it wasn't too noticeable yet.
I slipped past Mom and opened the door about six inches.
The woman standing on the porch didn't look familiar.
She was about my height and age.
Her dark hair had been highlighted with a lighter shade (or her light brown hair had been striped with a darker color).
She wore so much foundation that I could smell it over the perfume that a purely human nose might find light and attractive.
Her grooming was immaculate, like a purebred dog ready to be shown-- or a very expensive call girl.
Not a person you'd expect to find on the porch of an old mobile home out in the boonies of Eastern Washington at night.
"Mercy?" If she hadn't spoken, I'd never have recognized her because my nose was full of perfume and she didn't look anything like the girl I'd gone to college with.
"Amber?" Amber had been my college roommate Charla's best friend.
She'd been studying to be a veterinarian, but I'd heard she'd dropped out her first year in vet school.
I hadn't heard from her since I'd graduated.
When I'd last seen Amber she'd been wearing a Mohawk and had had a ring in her nose (which had been bigger) and a small tattooed hummingbird at the corner of her eye.
She and Charla had been best friends in high school.
Though it had been Charla who had decided they shouldn't room together, Amber had always blamed me for it.
We had been acquaintances rather than friends.
Amber laughed, doubtless at the bewildered look on my face.
There was something brittle in the sound, not that I was in any position to be picky.