I’d made the right choice, getting turned. If I hadn’t taken the sketchy route to immortality, I would have missed this moment, and so many moments to come. All of the trouble I’d had—the heartbreak, the confusion, the murder charges—was worth it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement backstage. Jane was lurking in the wings. Considering that she was neither a parent nor a staff member, this was unusual. She waved to me, pressing a finger to her lips. Dick appeared from behind her, waving, along with Andrea.
Chelsea Harbaker, who was watching her child perform from backstage for entirely different reasons, shrank away from Jane and retreated deeper into the shadows. She was having a rough month, having just been ousted as PTA president. After the success of the Pumpkin Patch, Chelsea—flush with new power—had taken to wearing a lapel microphone during PTA meetings. She wanted to be sure that everybody could hear everything she had to say. And they did. Especially when she neglected to turn off said lapel mic after the November meeting. And went into the teachers’ lounge to complain to her cronies about the “hillbilly idiots” she had to deal with in the parent volunteer pool and how she wanted to tell all of them what she thought of their “little brats.” And started naming names.
Casey Sparks dove for the amp that was carrying Chelsea’s remarks into the meeting room, but Kerrianne grabbed her by the arms and prevented her from turning it off. Casey’s rant was delivered at full volume for every member present.
She was Half-Moon Hollow Elementary’s first PTA president ever to be impeached. Kerrianne was running to replace her in the emergency election in January.
Seeing Jane, I moved carefully through the veritable maze of stacked cafeteria tables and old play props—backward, because I didn’t want to miss a moment of Danny’s performance.
“You know you don’t actually have to show up at all of the school events now,” I told Jane. “I have my bloodthirst well under control.”
“We’re not here because we don’t trust you,” Jane whispered. “We’re here because we enjoy musical performances by elementary-school children . . . That sounded less creepy in my head.”
“I should hope so,” Andrea muttered.
“Just tell her the truth,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “We are here on actual Council business.”
“Nice shirt, by the way,” I told him, nodding toward the T-shirt that read “Don’t look up for the mistletoe” with an arrow pointing toward his waistband. “Do I have to remind you that you are at an elementary school?”
“I didn’t know we were going to an elementary school when I left the house,” he grumbled.
I frowned, shaking my head. “Still.”
“So I can’t help but notice that Finn is sitting in the audience, with your dad, which is sort of weird,” Andrea noted, nodding toward the vampire in question.
I shushed her. “Yes, Finn is here as a friend,” I told her. “We’re trying this new thing where we spend time together, and we’re cordial, but we don’t make out. Considering that my dad is with us most of that time, it’s working out better than I expected.”
“And Finn’s OK with this?”
“Well, he’s not thrilled, but he’s not pouting about it, which I appreciate,” I said.
“But I want you and Finn to be together.” Andrea groaned. “He’s all scheme-y and redeemable. Like Loki but with better clothes.”
“Your fangirl shipping issues are not my problem.”
“But what about Finn’s daywalking tendencies?” Jane asked.
“Actually, Gigi’s boyfriend, Nik, thinks he might be able to help him with that,” I said. “Some of the postcurse techniques he’s learning specifically target keeping control of your emotional head space. It’s been very helpful for him.”
Jane sighed. “Well, in other news . . .” she said, glaring at Andrea. “The news we actually came to deliver is that you have been awarded a substantial reward for aiding in the capture of one of the Council’s most-wanted criminals.”
With a flourish, Dick handed me a slender envelope marked with the Council’s insignia.
“Really?”
“It turns out that Crybaby Bob was a hit man of some repute,” Jane said. “And while the Council generally tolerates murder, it finds murder for hire distasteful. Particularly when it causes trouble between the human and vampire authorities. Bob has been on the Council radar for the past ten years. He changed his appearance frequently to put us off. We were looking for someone with a dirty-blond bowl cut and a goatee, which, honestly, should have tipped us off. What sort of vampire has a bowl cut? The international office was very pleased to have him off the streets. And because you did technically defeat him in battle, they added a little something extra to your check. Like a tip that says, ‘Thank you for prompt and polite service in catching our pesky murderer.’ ”