Free Fashionably Dead by Robyn Peterman

said nothing.
    Red stepped closer to me and the air got cooler. “She’s very pretty,” she cooed. “I smell Vampyre, but there’s something else.”
    “She’s gorgeous.” Mr. Hottie’s gaze lingered on my mouth as he spoke then snapped up to my eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there. Who made you and what are you?” he demanded.
    I was starting to get pissed . . . and careless. “I’m a female,” I told Mr. Hot Pants, “and as far as I know my mommy and daddy made me.”
    “Obviously,” he laughed. His eyes raked over my body with appreciation. “But I’m in no mood for games. I’ll ask you again—nicely—one more time. Who made you and what are you?”
    I had no idea what they wanted me to say. My pissed-off reaction was shifting to scared-silly. I was so terrified I felt rooted to the ground. How weird was that? I’d heard people say it but I never believed it until now. My feet would not move. I wanted to run, but there was no chance of that. Brownie was by my right shoulder, Red was by my left, and Prince Starting-to-Be-UnCharming was in my face. I knew I was going to die. How unfair was that? I’d already died once this month. Shit.
    He wrapped his large hand around my throat and very calmly stated, “Why don’t I give you a few choices to make this a little easier for you, pretty girl? Are you a Vampyre-Witch, Vampyre-Ghoul, Vampyre-Demon, or Vampyre-Shifter?”
    “Ghoul and Shifter are out,” Red threw in. “I would be able to sense that.”
    Brownie, not to be out done by the rest of her psycho kin added, “Who sent you and why are you here?” She punctuated it by squeezing my arm so hard I was surprised the bone didn’t snap.
    “Oh my God,” I blurted, “you people are nuts.” I started to laugh. Knowing absolutely I was going to die, I still couldn’t help myself. Prince UnCharming dropped his hand from my throat. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was shocked.
    “Clearly . . . ” I went on, very noticeably raking Mr. Smarty Pants up and down with my eyes. Turnabout is always fair play and he was hot. If I was going to die I may as well enjoy looking at the eye-candy before he ripped me apart.
    “Clearly you are all very good-looking, well dressed Vampyre people who must have escaped from an extremely expensive insane asylum. I don’t know if I like being a Vampyre yet, but if I’m going to end up like you, go ahead and kill me. I want out.” I was definitely heading toward hysteria and entering the land of bizarre cheerleader voice. “You people are batshit crazy. Witches? Ghouls? Demons? Shifters? You forgot Mermaids and Trolls and the Tooth Fairy. I’m just going to leave you to what you were doing. Limb-ripping or whatever. So please step away from me and I’ll go.”
    Nobody moved. Much to my chagrin I started laughing again.
    “Is she laughing at me?” my ex-boyfriend asked.
    “No,” Red interjected, “Us. Did she just say Tooth Fairy?”
    “Yes, I believe she did.” He tried to suppress his amusement.
    “Does she have any idea who we are?” Red asked.
    “I’m going to go with a no on that one,” her brother replied.
    Brownie was not happy. “This is not good, not good at all,” she barked. “I think we should kill her.”
    “We can’t kill her,” Red snapped. “We don’t know what she is, who she belongs to, or why she’s here. So, if we kill her we could end up banished for centuries. She has not threatened our lives. Trance her, Ethan,” she ordered.
    Ethan? His name is Ethan?
    “I tried,” Ethan said. “It didn’t work.”
    “What do you mean?” Brownie was shocked.
    “What I mean, Lelia,” Ethan condescended, “is that she doesn’t trance. She can also clearly see through our cloaking.”
    That juicy tidbit set them all off as they yelled at each other about what to do with me. This was absolutely ridiculous. If I was going to die, I may as well go out fighting. What the hell were my choices? I wracked my brain to