Mistletoe is a Vampiric Plant E-Book

Julie Steimle

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Naughty or Nice...Going to Grandma’s for Christmas never got so complicated. The McAllister family had yet to tell Gran Wilson that they had learned the adopted daughter they had raised from a baby was a Vimp—a demon that was a cross between an imp and a vampire. They had learned it just last Halloween. But since they hadn't told her on Thanksgiving--it was Christmas or never. Can a demon celebrate a Christian holiday?

Leseprobe

Julie Steimle

Mistletoe is a Vampiric Plant

Hallowedspell Vimp novella 2

To all those who have ever been lonely or disappointed at Christmas.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Grandma's House We Go

We arrived at my Grandma Wilson’s the evening of the twenty-third like we did every year for Christmas. We had been driving through a snowstorm, the window wipers swishing the flurries out of the way as our car crawled through the plowed roads to her small home. Her neighborhood was covered in the thick blanket, which would have made it very picturesque, if it weren’t for the fact that we were keeping our eyes out for black ice. It didn’t snow where we lived. Near the cliff shores of Northern California, the winter actually brought some warmth to the valley inland. At my Gran’s, Christmas was like a Norman Rockwell illustration. Her windows were lit and the smell of burning wood from her fireplace seeped into the car from outside. I heard my mother sigh as we pulled alongside the curb.

“Here we are. Home,” she said.

“At last,” my sister Dawn muttered. “I need to pee.”

“Find a snow drift,” Will, my eldest brother said, unbuckling his seat belt.

My other brother, Travis, snickered and reached back for his backpack.

I merely smirked, lifting the wrapped packages from my lap to adjust my legs from the stiff ride.

“Hurry along then. I’m sure after a hug, Gran would let you use her bathroom,” Mom said.

“Sure,” Travis chimed in, “You can say, ‘Hi, Gramma. Where’s the potty?’”

“Not funny,” Dawn hissed, making a face at him.

My father set the emergency brake and looked back at me, lifting his eyebrows. “Come on, Eve. Tonight’s the night.”

“What a rotten Christmas present,” I said, and climbed out of the car. Already the nippy air was making rosy cheeks on my brothers’ and sister’s faces. I was as pale as ever though, never feeling the cold like normal people. I had learned that my lack of sensitivity to the cold was another symptom of my condition—as we were so used to calling it. If my mother didn’t make me wear a coat or gloves, I would forget entirely. I frowned. “Half the town freaked when they found out that they were right.”

“You are not a monster,” my mother said in a loud voice, waving us over to the house. “Gran will recognize that.”

I rolled my eyes. I knew arguing with my mother was fruitless. Besides, I could hear their hearts beating with nervousness, so I knew that my mother did not entirely believe her own words. She was merely hoping.

We all came to the front door, carrying the gifts we brought in our arms. It was tradition that we sing a carol while bearing gifts before we begged for any favors and unloaded the luggage.

“Now sing sweetly,” my mother said, pressing the doorbell.

It chimed with an old fashioned ding-dong, and we held our breaths, listening for the sound of her heeled shoes clicking against the linoleum. My Gran always loved her heels and never gave them up when she got old. She said it made her feel feminine and young.

Klickity, click, klickity, tap…

She paused on the front mat. I could barely see over the red and green ribbon on the huge box in my arms. We bought Gran a new microwave this year—she never thought about those things when she went shopping. Mom was sure she was still using her old Radar Range. It was still there when we visited around Thanksgiving. Dad didn’t tell her about me then.

“Ah! Travelers!” my Gran’s voice exclaimed from the other side of the window screen.

“Here we come a wassailing among the leaves so green….” Travis broke out in robust fervor. Will joined in, glancing at me to sing along. I sang, but I knew it did not improve the sound quality any. That was Dawn’s department. She was the singer, not me.

Dawn was singing, hopping from foot to foot with impatience while trying to quicken the pace. She carried a large can of popcorn and a packaged fruit basket.

“…Love and joy, come to you! And to you a wassail too! And God bless you and send you a happy New Year, and God send you a happy New Year!”

“Come in! Come in!” My Gran smiled at everyone, waving us all in with kisses and hugs. “Gracie is already here with Don. The boys are out back chopping firewood but should be in soon. Take a load off. Dawn! Oh, how you’ve grown!”

Dawn cast me a small look that I knew said it was ridiculous to think she had grown visibly since Thanksgiving. She accepted Gran’s hug.

“And Will! What a man you have become! Soon you’ll be off to college, you rascal, and leave your folks all alone.” Gran squeezed him tight and then pinched his forearm as if to measure his muscle through his down coat.

“Oh! And Travis! Come here and give your Gran a squidge!”

Travis took his hug, smiling sheepishly. “Hi, Gran.”

She turned to look at me, like always, and dispensed a smile. “Hello, Eve. I hope you’ve been a good girl this year.”

“I manage it,” I said, returning her smile. My Gran turned to hug my father and mother, beckoning us in.

I always knew my Gran preferred her blood kin. They were blond cherubs—good Nordic stock, though they had my father’s Scottish impishness about them that my Gran had to put up with rather than accept. I was not blood kin. Adopted before Dawn was born, I was an unexpected addition to the family. The first Thanksgiving I was with the family, my Gran begged my mother to reconsider not setting me up in a foster home somewhere. When I remained for that Christmas, she had accepted the fact that I was a permanent member of the McAllister family. Funny thing—fourteen years later, she was just as nervous at my presence as ever. Of course, now, I know she had good reason.

My Gran closed the door, shutting out the cold. I felt the heat of the fire and the candles burning on the mantle— I was sensitive to natural light and I was glad I was wearing my sunscreen. The fire was beautiful, though, with its reds and yellows—cheery and warm. I barely felt the real heat, just as I barely felt the cold, and my mother had to remind me to remove my coat.

“Still absent-minded, huh?” my Gran said, casting me a backward glance. “Tell me, Bette, is she still leaving to school without her coat? I wonder how she remembers to do her chores and homework.”

I gave her a small closed-lipped smile and walked to the ornately decorated tree, placing the huge box down next to where Will and Travis put their packages. Dawn had dropped hers on the kitchen counter and had run to the bathroom.

“Eve is very responsible, Mother,” my mom said, glancing at me gently. “She performs rather well at school. She simply is not sensitive to temperature.”

My Gran looked at me in a way that expressed severe doubt, but she did not voice it. Flying near her shoulders, the same as during the Thanksgiving feast, I heard little imps tell her to call me an unwanted castaway. No one could see or hear the imps but me, but I could see my Gran was biting her lip, dwelling on their words. I hadn’t always been able to see the imps that suggested bad things to people—only recently. It was another annoyance I could live without.

I glanced over the room. The imps that had traveled with my family and had tempted my brothers to tease Dawn, as well had conned Dawn into breaking open the box of chocolate fudge to snitch a piece, were now fluttering around the room searching for new mischief to cause. My aunt Gracie was sitting on the loveseat, crossing her ankles and looking stylish in her new tweed suit. She was well dressed for every occasion. My Uncle Don was kneeling before the fire, poking it with an iron, moving the logs around so it burned better.

He smiled politely at me and more sincerely at the rest of the family, grinning at my mother. “Hey, Bette! Come on over and get warm.”

My father took my mother’s coat and removed his own, placing both in the closet near the pile of snow galoshes. He smiled at me and reached out for my coat. I handed it to him, nodding and taking a breath.

He whispered in my ear, “We’ll tell them at dinner.”

I grimaced. His imps were telling him to grab me and run for it. I suppose they knew it would cause a commotion if we did split, but I really wished then that he had listened to them. My heart was pounding, and my mouth was going dry.

My aunt kept a narrow eye on me, though her lips were pleasantly smiling, parting now and then for a gracious word. She was all image—something I knew even before I heard her imps calling me all sorts of nasty things. To be frank, hearing everyone’s personal shoulder devils tempt and tease them was quite revelatory. It was almost like reading people’s minds—knowing their worst passing thoughts. It wasn’t entirely though. After all, even the kindest people had imps tempt them—they just didn’t entertain the thoughts.

“How are you, Eve?” Aunt Gracie said, reaching out her hands to me so I would sit next to her.

I let her lead me to the seat. Even though my aunt was just pretending to like me, it was better than nothing. “I’m fine.”

She smiled at me, tilting her head. Her imps made faces at me.

“You seem quite changed every time I see you. You and Dawn both have grown so sophisticated and womanly,” she said, fluttering her eyes at me in a way that I supposed was to make her look blushingly innocent.

I peeked up, knowing it was mostly said for Dawn’s benefit. She had returned from the bathroom.