Danny stared at me, speculative. “Do you have fangs?”
“Yep.”
“Can I see?”
This was the part I was dreading, Danny seeing me as something different, changed from the woman who baked him cookies and made his Halloween costumes. I was terrified that he would reject me, even if it was something as simple as being afraid of my fangs. But he had a right to ask questions and see the big picture. Biting my lip, I nodded and let them drop gradually, so it would feel less like I was springing something at him. Plus, in the corner of my brain, I still worried a little that moving my fangs too quickly would trigger some sort of instinctual feeding frenzy. But even when Danny reached up and touched his fingertip to the sharp point, I didn’t feel any temptation. I did worry about whether he’d washed his hands since he’d left school.
“Are you going to try to bite me?” he asked, lifting my lip so he could get a better look at my canines.
“No,” I said, pulling his hands away from my mouth. “Never.”
“Can you still make me pancakes for dinner?”
“I will try my hardest.”
“What does blood taste like?”
“Like meaty Diet Coke,” I responded, laughing when he made a face of absolute disgust. “I’m sticking to bottled fake blood for right now. It’s OK, but I definitely don’t want you trying it.”
Danny shrugged. “OK, then. Can I have SpongeBob macaroni for dinner?”
I stared at him. “That’s it?”
He shrugged. “Yep. You’re not going away. You’re not sick anymore. And you’re not going to bite me. That makes me happy. I mean, I don’t like that I can’t see you during the day. But vampires can do cool tricks, right? Like turn into bats and stuff?”
“No,” I told him. “That’s just in cartoons.”
Danny crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his bottom lip. The pouting force was very strong with this one. “Well, that stinks.”
“But I’m super-fast and super-strong. When I get hurt, it heals right back up.”
“Like Superman?”
“Yeah, sort of,” I said. “Watch.”
I stepped off the porch and took off at top speed, running a lap around the house and skidding to a stop in front of him.
He launched to his feet and cheered. “Cool! Can you fly?”
“No, but watch this.” I bent at the knees and sprang up as fast and as far as I could, clearing the roof of the house and landing on the lowest sturdy branch of the oak tree by Danny’s bedroom window. Danny cheered and whooped, while I did a backward flip off the branch and landed gracefully on the ground.
“I wish I could take you in for show-and-tell,” he said.
“Well, it would be really entertaining until the sunlight made your mom burst into flames and traumatized the whole class.”
“Probably,” he admitted, standing up and brushing the dust from his butt.
“So we’re OK?” I asked, tugging at his hand until he fell into my lap. He squirmed, too old in his mind now for cuddles.
“Yeah.”
“And no more throwing applesauce at school personnel, OK? If you’re upset with an adult, you go to Mr. Walsh, or you come home and tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you going to take care of Mrs. McGee?”
“Well, not in the way that you seem to be implying. I’m not a hit man.”
Danny’s eyes went wide and innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
“Fine.” He sighed. At the front door, he paused. “Vampires don’t eat, right?”
“Not solid human food, no.”
“So you won’t be able to eat my Halloween candy?”
“No.”
“Or my Christmas-stocking candy?”
I sighed, pursing my lips. “No.”
“Or the ears off my chocolate Easter bunny?”
“Daniel Robert.”
“I’m just checking!” he exclaimed.
“Sweetheart, I cannot eat your candy anymore,” I told him. He gave me a Cheshire cat grin. “Stop smiling so much.”
“But I’m happy.”
“Go get your dinner.”
I clicked my tongue as he announced to Kerrianne that I’d approved of pasta shaped like a talking sea sponge. “I’m raising a future supervillain.”
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to call the principal. He’d given me his personal cell-phone number to call in case of issues like the one with Mrs. McGee.
Scrolling through my phone, I found several voice-mail messages from the Council office daytime liaison. She was calling to set up a meeting time with my in-laws, who had contacted Jane’s office to try to arrange mediation for the custody of one Daniel Robert Stratton.