Kerry Allen's Love Emporium

Growing up with four brothers, each gifted with a more warped sense of humor than the last, one either became a light sleeper or suffered multiple late-night noogie attacks.

When Andi’s mattress shifted beneath a weight other than her own, her eyelids snapped open. A familiar face hovered inches above hers, its pale, glittery sheen distinct in the darkness. The scrawny body to which it was attached pressed against hers. “Is that a unicorn in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“My darling Andrea, you dazzle me with your wit.”

Well, this was a minor nightmare. “You better hope this is a dream sequence.”

The face smiled. “Yes, a dream… a dream come true.”

She launched her fist at the intruder. It connected with a satisfying snap of nasal cartilage and with enough force to send him flying. He hit the floor with a meaty thud and a whiny whimper. Andi rolled off the opposite side of the bed and wrapped her fingers around the baseball bat propped in the corner.

The light on the little table between the beds clicked on. Ivy assessed the situation with one glance. “A bat will make a mess. I have strychnine.”

“If it doesn’t break this little turd’s kneecaps, I’m not interested. A few bloodstains on the carpet will give this place some character.”

“Suit yourself.” Ivy propped her pillow against the headboard and settled back to watch. “Does the little turd have a name we can engrave on his tombstone, or will we be cinderblocking the body and dumping it in the nearest watery grave?”

Andi wasn’t as familiar with corpse-disposal lingo as she probably should be. “Cinderblocking?”

“So it doesn’t float.”

“Oh. Let’s go with that.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” the guy on the floor protested, words snuffly due to his mangled nose. “You can’t kill me!”

Ivy pointed to the open window. “Breaking and entering.” She pointed to Andi’s bed. “Attempted rape.” She pointed to herself. “Eyewitness. Her self-defense defense is ironclad. No reason she shouldn’t beat your skull in if the stains don’t bother her.”

He clasped his hands to his chest. “But I looooove her!”

A rapturous smile blossomed upon Ivy’s lips. She turned wide, glistening eyes toward Andi. “Aww. Psychotic looooove is the greatest looooove of all. Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, young lady?”

Andi rested the bat against her shoulder, torn between which of them to use it on. “He is not my boyfriend. I made eye contact with him at a diner in Cleveland on the trip here, and he’s been stalking me ever since.”

“I’m not stalking you, Andrea,” he chastised as if she were a small, stupid child. “I’m protecting you.”

“Judging by the state of your face, she doesn’t need protecting.” Drew stood in the doorway, his bulk stuffed into a frilly pink nightgown. “If you’re going to kill him, Andi, could you do it quietly? Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

The intruder grimaced at the sight of Eugenia peeking into the room and quickly looked away. He looked at the lamp, then at the window. “Some girls could sleep for a million years and not be as enchanting as my precious Andrea.”

Andi extended the bat to her homely roommate. “Want the first whack?”

Eugenia pushed her heavy glasses up the bridge of her nose, thwarting their tendency to succumb to gravity. “No, thank you. I’m quite used to it. I can’t dispute my unattractiveness.”

The as-yet-unidentified individual gestured in her direction without looking at her. His restless eyes seemed unable to settle on anything in particular for more than two seconds. “Those enormous goggles allow her to see reason. Why can’t you be so sensible and agree with everything I say, Andrea?”

Andi tapped her finger against her chin and pretended to ponder the question. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m not some spineless hick from Nowheresville with no sense of self, waiting for a guy to show up and give me direction, particularly a guy who breaks into my bedroom to stare at me while I sleep. I’m from Detroit, where kindergartners have enough backbone to kick your creepy ass.”

Ivy left her bed and bent to retrieve something from the floor beneath the window. “Who is this guy, exactly?”

“He’s an emo idiot who thinks he’s a leprechaun or something.”

“I’m a vampire!”

“Sure you are,” Andi said in her most supportive tone. “Your nose is bleeding.”

He screamed and leapt to his feet. “I just bought this shirt at Hot Topic! I need a towel, a Kleenex, anything!”

Eugenia stepped forward and offered him one of the tissues tucked up her sleeve. He wiped his face clean and tossed the red-stained wad aside with a shudder.

“Kind of squeamish about blood for a vampire,” Ivy observed before turning her attention to what she held in her hand.

He straightened to his full height, rightfully proud to be tied for fourth tallest person in the room. “I am Edwen Cullard, of the Wisconsin Cullards. My people are too civilized to drink blood.”

Eugenia extracted a small spiral notebook and a pen from her sleeve, which seemed to conceal as many goodies as Ivy’s boots of death. “From what source do you derive nourishment, in that case?”

His eyes flickered to the left. “Milk. Cheese. Low-fat, unsweetened yogurt. Other dairy products.”

Drew arched the most well-shaped pair of brows in the room. “Must be hell to be a Wisconsin vampire if you’re lactose intolerant.”

Edwen’s eyes flickered to the right. “Oh, no. My brother has a milk protein allergy and gets along quite well on soy substitutes.”

Ivy smirked. “Goody, I was just going to ask if there were more like you back home because wow, you are a catch. Has he taken you home to meet the family yet, Andrea?”

Andi’s eyes narrowed at the use of her full name, an annoyance favored by her brothers when one of them really, really needed a wedgie in a hurry. “They were with him at the diner.”

Eugenia readied her pen over a fresh sheet of notebook paper. “What did they look like?”

“They didn’t look anything alike. And yet they were all exactly alike.”

Eugenia stopped writing. “How can something be both nothing alike and exactly alike? It defies logic.”

“No shit.” Andi muttered from the corner of her mouth, “It was in the book.”

“Aaaaaah,” her roommates uttered in unanimous understanding.

“So how old are you, Eddie?” Ivy inquired. “Have to make sure you’re a suitable suitor for our little girl.”

“I am a hundred and fourteen years old.”

“Interesting.” She waved her hand, the object she held—a wallet, which must have fallen from his pants while he made his entrance—flapping like a wounded bird. “It says here you’re twenty-one. And that your name is Juan Valdez.”

“Let me see.” Drew easily fielded Ivy’s pitch and whistled at what he saw inside. “Nice ‘tash, Juan. This is the worst fake ID I’ve ever seen.”

Edwen snatched his wallet from Drew’s hand. “Well, I can’t very well stroll into the DMV and get a real driver’s license.”

Eugenia poked his baby smooth, hairless cheek and then inspected her fingertip, which now demonstrated the same sparkle as his face. “I theorize that is because you’re not even old enough to qualify for a learner’s permit.”

“No! Because the government must never find out about my people. They would hunt us to extinction.”

“Obviously. Everybody knows dairy-sucking Wisconsinites are by far the biggest threat to national security.” Ivy slammed the under-window chair into the back of his legs, forcing him to sit. “What is it you think Andi needs protecting from?”

Edwen’s eyes darted around the room at an accelerated rate. He lowered his voice to a barely perceptible level and whispered one word: “Werewolves.”

NEXT: Almost One

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