Part 18 (1/2)

”I understand your concern, Mrs. Lacey,” Sebastian said, ignoring all the weird flirting from my mom. ”You don't have to worry. I don't usually go around broadcasting my vampirism.”

”And I don't usually blurt out the whole vampire thing either,” I said. When Sebastian shot me an ”are you sure about that?”

glance, I returned with a ”let me finish” glare. ”See, the thing is, I, well, I guess I just wanted you to love him for all that he is-like I do.”

Sebastian gave me a curious sort of smile-grimace, like he wasn't sure if he should take my saccharine comments seriously. I jabbed him in the ribs.

”Because I do,” I said.

”Aw, honey, that's sweet,” my mother said. ”Of course, we like him.”

”I don't,” my dad said, sitting up and opening his eyes. ”Not only is he dead, which can't be good, but if he's a vampire, that means he drinks blood. Our daughter's blood.”

”It's not like that,” Sebastian said, sitting up a little straighter as well.

”Actually, he mostly feeds on other people,” I explained quickly. ”They're called suppliers or donors or . . . well, mostly we call them ghouls.”

That little bit of information killed conversation completely. My parents stared at us with a combination of incredulity and disgust.

Barney, having noisily crunched up her stolen treasure, hopped up on to the arm of the couch near my mother, clearly ready for another one.

Sebastian shot me a way-to-blow-it glance and stood up. ”I think the coffee is done,” he announced.

”So what is this,” my mother asked, ”swinging or something?”

I got up and went over to adjust the logs on the fire. I didn 't know how to explain our blood donor arrangements with my parents; I hardly knew how to deal with the complexity of it all myself. I jabbed at the logs with the poker. Sparks flew and quickly faded to ash on the stone hearth. ”When did your generation get so conservative?” I asked. ”I mean, weren't you guys the ones who became swingers? It's not like Sebastian is out cruising for people to bite. He's got a regular list of willing volunteers who have all been vetted by some kind of supplier's guild. I don't really ask, but I know he's faithful to me. That's all that matters, right?”

”If you say so, honey,” my mother said.

”What was wrong with Brett Cunningham, anyway?” My father asked.

”Brett?” I said. ”I dated him for two months senior year.”

”At least he was human,” my father said.

”Sebastian is human too,” I said. ”He's just . . . altered.” Wow, what a ringing endors.e.m.e.nt. Even though I knew he had super hearing, I was glad Sebastian had retreated to the kitchen.

”I liked that Daniel Parrish fellow,” my mother said. ”He only came over to the place once, late at night, but he was a real gentleman. Didn't you date him in Minneapolis for a long time?”

I couldn't quite contain a laugh. ”Mom, Parrish is a vampire too.”

”Christ, how many of them are there?” my dad asked. ”Brett Cunningham was nice.”

He was also a h.o.r.n.y jock who did things with me I was certain my dad wouldn't approve of.

Sebastian came out with two coffee mugs. ”Anyone else want a cuppa?”

”Oh,” my mother smiled, ” 'Cuppa,' how British.” Barney took advantage of my mother's distraction to stick her paw tentatively inside the chip bag that sat forgotten on my mother's lap.

”I'll take some,” I said, reaching for the mug. Maybe caffeine would help stave off the stress headache that was tightening along my shoulders and neck.

Sebastian handed it to me. ”There's more in the kitchen.”

My dad hauled himself off the couch. ”I'll help myself,” he said.

”It's getting late,” my mother observed. The clock on the mantel read quarter to two in the morning.

Barney's claws snared another chip. She scooped it up in her mouth and ran off with it. This time she disappeared under the couch. If she kept this diet up, I'd no doubt be stepping in regurgitated piles of Doritos in the middle of the night.

”I'll drive you back to the hotel,” Sebastian offered. ”We can bring your car around in the morning.”

”We could crash in your spare bedroom.”

”Not a good idea,” I said quickly.

Benjamin rattled the china in the kitchen. ”Holy s.h.i.+t, the cabinets are haunted,” I heard my dad yell.

”Why not? I peeked in there earlier. It's a beautiful room. Your son seems to prefer the couch, and . . .”

”Actually, you could use the sunroom, if you'd like,” Sebastian said. ”There's a lovely fold-out futon in there. It's a little chilly, but it's beautiful.”

I stared at him openmouthed. He was going to offer my parents the sunroom? Sebastian never let me into the sunroom. It was off his private sanctum sanctorum, his alchemical workshop. It was the only room in the house he kept locked. I only knew about it because I'd broken into it once with Lilith's help.

”Why couldn't we . . . ?”

I smelled cinnamon and cloves, like pumpkin pie. ”Because the guest room belongs to our house ghost. I think you'd be more comfortable in the sunroom.”

”Oh, okay,” my mom was a pushover when she was high.

My dad came back in with a coffee mug that said Witches Do It By Moonlight.

”Come on, Glen,” Mom said. ”We're heading to bed.”

”But I just got my coffee.”

”Let's leave these kids alone for a while.”

My dad frowned petulantly at his cup. ”But I thought they'd kissed and made up.”

”I want to have s.e.x,” my mother said.

I spat my coffee back into my cup. ”Mom!”

”Oh!” My dad set the cup down on the nearest surface, which happened to be a leather-bound book.

Sebastian scooped it up quickly. ”Uh, I hate to rain on your parade, but I need to make up the bed. It will only take a moment, I promise,” he said with a broad wink. ”So you two will just have to simmer down for a minute.”

Sebastian took the stairs two at a time.