Free Vamps by Nancy A. Collins

I’ve never seen this girl before….”
    â€œThen what happened?”
    â€œTanith got staked,” Lilith replied, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper.
    â€œBy the Founders,” Todd muttered in shock. “Is she—?”
    Lilith nodded.
    â€œI see,” Todd said. He rubbed his lower lip with the knuckle of his right index finger, a sign that he was lost in his own thoughts. “Very well. Go on to bed, Lilith. I’ll see that Dorian and Georgina are notified.”
    Victor Todd watched his daughter head out the door of the study. As she moved to shut the door behind her, Lilith looked over her shoulder at him, her brilliant blue eyes shining with tears.
    â€œDaddy?” she asked in a wavering voice.
    â€œYes, Lilith?” he replied gently.
    â€œYou’re not going to cut up my credit cards, are you?”
    â€œNo, princess.” He sighed. “Of course not.”

CHAPTER 6
    C ally lived with her mother on the top floor of a seven-story building that had originally been a warehouse for pipe organs or something equally Victorian. Their condo was one of many created for the artists, students, and office workers forced out of the Lower East Side in search of affordable rents.
    Compared to some of the places they’d lived, the three-bedroom-two-bath apartment they now called home was a palace. Indeed, the living room had excellent views and a large balcony that looked out toward the Williamsburg Bridge. The kitchen was outfitted with all stainless steel Viking appliances, including a six-burner stove—not that it mattered, since Cally’s mom had no idea how to cook and no intention of ever learning.
    As she exited the elevator onto her floor, Callycould hear the rumble from the home theater system’s subwoofer. She sighed and rolled her eyes. No doubt they were going to get another nasty note from the condo board.
    Cally’s mother, Sheila Monture, was seated on the antique red velvet fainting couch facing the sixty-inch plasma flat-panel HDTV, watching, yet again, Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula. Cally recognized the scene as the one where Anthony Hopkins and Keanu Reeves charge into Winona Ryder’s bedroom and catch her in the arms of Gary Oldman.
    â€œI’m home!” Cally shouted over the thunderously loud sound track as she unlocked the door. She noticed that the draperies covering the huge picture windows in the living room had been pulled back so her mother could look out at the East River.
    Sheila Monture spun around, startled by her daughter’s sudden appearance. She fumbled with the remote, and the sound level on the movie dropped from deafening to merely loud.
    â€œSweetheart! There you are—! I was hoping you’d get home early enough for us to talk!”
    As her mother rose to greet her, Cally saw that she was wearing a pale lavender negligee with stylized bat wing sleeves and a long black wig with a white streak in it. Over the years, Cally had come to recognize that her mother chose costumes to express her moods. Whenever she wanted to come across as sophisticated andaloof, she dressed like Morticia Addams; when she wanted to be perceived as motherly and down-to-earth, she dressed as Lily Munster.
    â€œTalk? About what?” Cally asked warily.
    â€œI heard from your father tonight,” Sheila said cheerily, ignoring her daughter’s tone of voice.
    â€œA lot he cares!” Cally sneered.
    â€œNow, darling, that’s not true!” Sheila Monture affected an exaggerated frown as she clasped her hands over her breast. “Your father cares quite a bit about you.”
    Cally walked across the living room and stared out the window at the bridge, its metal span illuminated against the night.
    â€œDarling, your father is giving you a big chance. Starting Monday, you are going to Bathory Academy,” her mother said, clearly savoring the words.
    Cally spun around in disbelief.