Almost Final Curtain by Tate Hallaway Read Free Book Online Page A

corner. She squeaked and dropped the ladder with a clang when she saw me standing there. “How did you get down? Please tell me you didn’t . . .” Her hand flew to her mouth, as she took in all that was my fabulous vampire self. “Oh, Ana! Don’t stand there looking like that!”
    She made it sound like I was on the front lawn in my underwear. Mom was looking at me with undisguised horror.
    My hands on my hips, I spun to tell her what I thought about all that, but Nikolai spoke first.
    “It’s all right, Dr. Parker,” Nikolai said, using Mom’s honorific the way Elias called me “Highness.” “It’s under control. I just came by to ask Ana out for a malt.”
    A malt? What was this, the 1950s?
    “Oh, that sounds delightful,” Mom said, instantly forgetting her horror at seeing me all vamped up. It kind of freaked me out, the way Nik and my mom interacted. It was so clear that my mom wanted Nikolai and me to be together, like a normal couple, that she pushed to the point of being ... well, icky. Plus, she sort of fluttered around him. Like, she was all into him. I was doing my best not to gag, when my mom added, “Do you need some cash, Ana?”
    I rarely refused the offer of money, even at a time like this. I had my hand out, but once again, Nik interrupted me before I could even start.
    “I’ve got it covered, Dr. Parker.”
    “Please, Nikolai, call me Amelia.”
    Please don’t!
    “I’ll have her home before eleven, Amelia.”
    Ugh! He did!
    Nikolai opened the car door with a rusty squeal. He gestured all gentlemanly-like for me to take a seat, as if I’d already agreed to this ridiculous malt.
    “I’m not sure—”
    “Oh, go ahead, sweetheart,” Mom said, pushing her round glasses up on her nose. She might be the most powerful witch in the Midwest, but she still looked like a frumpy college professor. Her blond curls spilled out from a makeshift bun. The fabric of her olive cotton skirt rode up a bit, and there was a greasy smear where she’d balanced the ladder against her ample hip. “You can even stay out to midnight, if you’re going to be with Nik.”
    Whom, five minutes ago, you were telling to kill Elias. “I have homework.”
    “Do it in the morning,” Mom offered sweetly, if somewhat insincerely. I could see it pained her, the teacher, to even suggest such slacking.
    “We do need to talk, Ana,” Nikolai reminded me gently. “Please.”
    It was the “please” that did it. I felt the fangs click back into concealment, and the night dimmed around me. With a sigh, I slumped into the passenger side of Nik’s Toyota.
     
     
    Apparently Nik was serious about the malt. We ended up in a booth in the back of Snuffy’s on Cleveland. The restaurant had an honest-to-goodness lunch counter, a jukebox, and red vinylcovered seats. Photos and framed newspaper articles featuring local sports stars from the seventies to the present day adorned the wall.
    “Okay, this is surreally Leave It to Beaver ,” I said, taking another look at the retro decor. “What are you up to, Nikolai Kirov?”
    “I just really wanted a malt,” he said with a shrug. It was striking how much like a traditional vampire Nik looked. Under the fluorescent lights, his pale skin had an almost greenish cast. His hair was long enough to tie back, though he usually let it fall loosely to his shoulders. The studded leather jacket amped up the bad-boy vibe.
    In contrast, Elias, the actual vampire, usually tended toward business-casual.
    Weird.
    After a gum-snapping waitress in her forties took our order—was this place for real?—I watched Nik studiously avoid me. He played with the corner of the paper place mat, instead, folding and unfolding the corner.
    “My eyes are back to normal,” I assured him. “You can look at me.”
    He leaned back against the booth, the leather creaking as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Despite what I said, he stared at the watch on his wrist as he spoke. “Things are getting