Chapter 1 : Part 1

Fanged & Fabulous
by Michelle Rowen

My name is Sarah Dearly, and I've got major problems. Last month, I was turned into a vampire by the world's worst blind date. Then I may have, totally by accident, started a war between the mostly peaceful bloodsuckers and a bunch of sociopathic vamp hunters who have nicknamed me the Slayer of Slayers.

Now I'm being used as bait to draw out the hunters' bad-ass leader, while my gorgeous 600-year-old boyfriend Thierry seems to be blowing me off, and my sizzle-hot, fanged friend Quinn is trying to turn my self-defense lessons into make-out sessions. So you know what? I'm done. I've had it. There comes a time when a vamp has to just suck it up and go after what she wants. And as soon as I figure out what that is, that's exactly what I'll do...

Chapter 1

Jogging is great exercise. Running for your life - even better.

At least that's what I tried to tell myself.

It was the new jogging suit that did it. I felt all J. Lo in my fuchsia velour (admittedly a little outdated, but happily purchased for half price) out for a quick, late-afternoon jog. Feeling good in the cold but fresh February air with my newest pair of very dark sunglasses firmly in place.

I guess I shouldn't have smiled at the cute young guy by the hot dog cart outside of my apartment building. Firstly, because, hello? I'm taken, thank you very much.

Secondly, because of the whole "fang" situation.

Fangs never seem to go over very well with vampire hunters.

Next thing I know, instead of getting a modest workout - surprisingly enough, a diet of diluted blood is not calorie-free - I was hightailing it through a nearly deserted park with a hunter on my Reebok-clad heels.

I shot a look over my shoulder. "Leave me alone!"

"Stop running, vampire!" he hollered.

I eyed the wooden stake he had in his right hand, and then picked up my pace, darting past a couple of speed walkers who didn't bother to give us a second glance.

Almost an entire month had gone by without seeing a single hunter. A very good month. Enough for me to let down my guard way too much.

Not good.

"I'll catch you!" the hunter shouted from a few steps behind me. "So why don't you stop running and save me some time?"

I jumped up as we passed an overhang of evergreens and grabbed at the nearest icicle. Then I stopped abruptly and spun around to face him with the sharp piece of ice clenched in my hand.

He skidded to a halt, almost slamming right into me, and looked at me with confusion. "You stopped."

"I'm trying to be more proactive these days. Come near me and this - " I indicated my drippy weapon " - is going through your eyeball."

My heart was beating so hard and fast I thought it might burst out of my chest like the slimy creature in Alien. Vampire hearts beat just as hard as human hearts. I never thought they did before I became one. I used to think that vampires were undead. But they aren't. They're just another kind of alive. Heartbeat mandatory to stay that way, otherwise what difference would that famous wooden stake make?

Hunter-boy was actually kind of cute. Probably in his early twenties, with fashionably shaggy dark hair, a thin but attractive face, and brown puppy-dog eyes. He wore a black leather jacket over . . . beige Dockers?

I could totally take him.

"Proactive?" He raised an eyebrow and shifted the stake to his other hand. The frozen air puffed out of his mouth with every breath he took.

I shivered, and it wasn't just from the temperature. "Yeah, that's acting in advance to deal with an expected difficulty. I looked it up. It means that instead of running like a chicken with my head cut off - pardon the cliché - I will confront my attacker and deal with the situation in a calm yet forceful manner."

"You're smart for a vampire," he said.

I raised my eyebrows at that. "Really?"

"A vampire who's about to die."

I tensed and curled my other hand into a fist. I'd been going to self-defense fitness classes with my best friend Amy for a couple of weeks. It was true that only a few hour-long lessons probably weren't going to earn me any major ass-kicking awards, but I felt a little more confident about my current woman-in-jeopardy situation. A little.

Proactive with a capital P. That's me.

Okay, now I was shivering and sweating. I take it back. I wasn't confident. Not in the slightest.

Hunter-boy was going to stake me. Easily.

"What's your name?" I blurted out.

"Chad."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Is that short for anything?"

"Yeah, it's short for 'I'm going to kill you now.'" He frowned. "Why are you still talking?"

Copyright © 2007 by Michelle Rowen

About the Author

Michelle Rowen was born in Toronto, Ontario. As a child she decided that when she grew up she would become a flight attendant, a jewel thief, or a writer. One out of three ain't bad. She is a self-confessed bibliophile, the proud owner of an evil cat named Nikita, Reality TV junkie, and has an unhealthy relationship with all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer.