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I forced a smile onto my face. “I’m happy you’re thinking of me.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t eat, necessarily, but Sicily knew the hot dog would taste like rubber. And she did this a lot—forgetting what I was. That was actually comforting in a way. I was mom first, bloodsucking fiend second. I’d take it.
She smiled at me and shifted closer to Mason, who was toasting a pair of marshmallows on his tongs, not satisfied until they came away black and flaming. I’d never understand the appeal of night-black marshmallows. I liked mine a golden brown—at least once upon a time when I’d had the stomach for them. If I wanted char, I’d eat a briquette straight off a grill, thank you very much.
As to Sicily and Mason, they were sitting close together, an aura of nervous anticipation crackling between them. It made my gums ache as my fangs tried to emerge. My fangs did that sometimes when I felt threatened, and Mason qualified as more than just an annoyance these days. He’d noticed Sicily’s flirtation, and he’d started flirting back. At this rate, they’d be canoodling by Christmas. Thank God Dean seemed as disapproving of the relationship as I did—he wanted Mason to concentrate on making deputy. And I, of course, wanted Sicily to concentrate on high school. Maybe between Dean and me, we could forestall the inevitable.
And speaking of Dean, I could sense him sneaking up behind me, probably trying to scare me the way he always had back in the day. I hadn’t had super senses then, so he’d been able to lunge out at me, catching me with a laugh when I rocked back with a shriek. Then he’d kiss me, setting my heart hammering for an entirely different reason.
But that was then and this was now.
This time, I let him get close, then ducked as he came for me, arms outstretched. He faltered, staring at the place I’d been just seconds earlier, and then he actually jumped when I materialized behind him—vampire speed in action.
“Boo,” I whispered.
Dean gave me a rueful chuckle. “I guess I can’t sneak up on you now that you’re Supergirl, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“What gave me away?”
“A lot of things. Your scent, your breathing, your heartbeat.” I shrugged. “Ambient temperature changes. Don’t feel too bad. Sicily has been trying and failing to spook me for a while. The only thing that really scares me is the prospect that she’ll start sneaking off with Mason.”
Dean paused a few yards away from the pair, and I could sense rather than see his scowl. “Yeah, that is scary, isn’t it?”
“When your kids get to the age where they can date… yikes, talk about feeling old,” I agreed. “Which brings up another interesting subject,” I started and then gave him a look.
Dean’s back was stiffer than it had been a few seconds ago, and the smile immediately dropped off his mouth. His face had smoothed into an expressionless mask.
“I wanted to tell you,” he started.
“But you didn’t.”
He nodded and breathed in deeply. “It’s a… complicated topic.”
I looked at him. “So, I witnessed.”
He breathed in real deep a second time and then expelled it on a big sigh. “I don’t want to fight, Twila.”
“Are we fighting?”
“I don’t want to… have adeep conversationabout this then.” He looked around himself before his eyes settled back on me. “This is supposed to be a holiday party.”Then he frowned as he took in the scene of monsters frolicking around the three bonfires. “At least, I think it’s supposed to be but it looks more like something out of a horror movie.”
I dropped my gaze, blinking to dispel the anger I could feel burning behind my eyes. It was stupid to react like this. He’d made it clear that his life was his own and if he didn’t want to let me in, he wasn’t going to. Maybe I was being pushy.
I cast my eyes around the park, which was in the middle of downtown Windy Ridge, where we were having our little get-together. It wasn’t much of a park really—more like a big rectangle of grass. But it seemed to do just fine for all the residents who were happily chatting with one another while they roasted marshmallows over the flames of the three bonfires we’d erected.
All the while, I grasped for something—anything to change the subject. I finally settled on the scarecrows with Santa Hats that dotted the disjointed sidewalk slabs down the street—it had been Sicily’s idea to have a Halloween-Christmas aka Halloweenmas. She thought it was a good way to celebrate the uniqueness of Windy Ridge and its inhabitants. I think the residents were all just happy to get out and socialize—it didn’t matter what we labeled the occasion.
As to the uneven sidewalk, the government hadn’t been eager to send someone out here to repair the broken things, and now it was all but impossible to get some poor, beleaguered construction crew to do it. Too many opportunities to reveal ourselves, and not everyone would be able to keep their mouths shut. With our luck, Karen Dooley would go strutting down the street, tail swishing, her red, pointed nose stuck up in the air, as usual. I’d have to hogtie her with the Halloween garlands strung between the street lamps.
“The decorations are pretty this year, don’t you think?” I commented, though my voice sounded a little flat.
Dean sighed. “I don’t know that I’d term them ‘pretty’ necessarily,” he answered as he looked over at a snowman display in the center of the park. The snowman would have been a normal Christmas display if not for his fangs, and his branch arms that were outstretched before him like he was ready to come after you.
“It’s Halloweenmas,” I answered with a shrug.
“Well, in that case, it’s great,” he countered and then breathed in deeply again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Skye.”
