Wolf at the Door - By MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,11

and wanted it in there.”

“All this to say . . . ?” Gregory prompted.

“If it’s fake, it shows the workings of a dangerously cunning mind, one that should be investigated in order to protect society. If it’s true, there are vampires in St. Paul, actual bloodsucking, Vlad the Impaler, allergic-to-cross-and-garlic, unholy creature, dread-denizen-of-the-undead vampires!” He reread a section on the back page. “And they’re having a potluck on the third.”

“I’m a dread denizen of the night,” Gregory admitted.

Boo laughed and tackled him; they both flopped onto the striped sofa. “I’ve never held that against you.”

“That is a lie! You’ve always held it against me, you’ve just repressed it.”

Boo wriggled around until she was half on and half off Gregory. Edward turned to put the pitcher of juice in the fridge, and when he turned back, Boo was lying almost full length on the couch, her head thrown back, and Gregory had started whispering in her ear and nibbling on her throat. Not literally, thank God. Okay, yes, literally, but not hard. Carefully, even gently. It was really skeevey to watch.

And lonely.

But also skeevey, dammit!

“Who better to go check it out? Nobody ever sees me coming; if it’s false, then no harm done. I’m only out a little time. If it’s not, I’m already best friends with a bona fide who-yagonna-call vampire slayer. It works on multilevels, big number one being that I need a change of scenery, and you two can stalk and stake jerkoffs almost as well without me.”

Gregory snorted against Boo’s neck, which made her laugh out loud. At least, he thought it was the snort. “Almost, yep, right on all counts, good work! We’ll try to stagger along without you.”

“Because we’re so brave,” Gregory added in mid-nibble. “We’ll gladly put everything at stake for you.”

Boo, who had begun kissing him, stopped at once. “You’d better pretend you didn’t make such a shitty pun on purpose,” Boo warned.

“Oh, I do. I do.”

“My work here is done,” Edward announced, waving the newsletter. Boo said something. It might have been, “Mufff unnggh.” Or, “You still here?”

“I mean it. I’m out of here. Gone, zip, out the door and onto the bitter brutal streets of a St. Paul suburb. You’re not going to have me to kick around anymore,” he threatened.

They seemed fine with it. Which sort of summed up his problem: there was no place for him in this apartment, town, life. Okay, life was a little strong, but now that he’d begun actively exploring his ennui, he was shocked at how much there was, and how it’d come to be there so long.

It wasn’t like he woke up and increased his carbs in order to fatten up so he could migrate. It had been a long time coming and, in a way, had nothing to do with Boo and Gregory. Was it on his roommates that he’d been hypnotized by routine?

No. Just like it wasn’t on them that finally, after four years, he was awake.

“Awake . . . and vowing to bring the light of justice to flush out the dark corners of the undead!”

“Could you pick up some milk while you’re at it? Skim if they’ve got it, otherwise two percent.”

I’ve got to get out of here.

It wasn’t exactly Let’s be careful out there or Avengers assemble! but he’d take what he could get.

Six

Five days later . . .

It was fate that led her to the Woodbury Barnes and Noble that night. Fate, and an urgent need for both a lemon scone and Newsweek. Later, Rachael was unable to remember when exactly she’d spotted Edward in the store, because she hadn’t started to pay attention until the felony assault. But she always remembered the first thing he had said to her, right there in front of the Sweet Valley Vampires display: “The undead really, really dislike being this popular.”

That was odd enough to catch her attention . . . and he was cute enough to keep it.

Like any werewolf, she had started sorting scents the moment she came through the door, categorizing and filing them away. She did it as automatically as people checked the rearview mirror when they backed up. And when she focused on Edward, it was the way people didn’t pay attention to the color of a necktie until they were right in front of it.

So it was with Edward’s scent, a pleasing combo of clean cotton and oranges, with a sprinkling of underarm deodorant; she liked it right away. She also liked the way