Page 2 of The Accidental Detectives

The annoying-AF kid in question is the offspring of one of Marty’s pack members.

Marty’s one of my BFFs.

Marty Flaherty: resident werewolf. Fashion enslaved. All things feminine and lip-glossed. Heart of gold. Mother of Hollis and an aging poodle named Muffin. Both of whom I love the crap out of.

Loves shopping at discount outlet malls. Loves dragging me with her when she goes. Owner of a globally successful cosmetics company called Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics. Married to a pack Alpha named Keegan, who also owns a cosmetics company called Pack (get it? Werewolf—pack? Hah!).

Her friend’s annoying kid, Bertrand, has been following us around like a hemorrhoid no amount of Preparation H can cure, filming us for some project in his cinematography class he feckin’ dubbed aDracumentary.

You know, a Dracula/documentary mashup because I’m a vampire? Funny, right?

When Bertrand approached her about this, she thought it would be fun to have him make a documentary about our newest venture. A detective agency for paranormals.

“Nina!” Marty chastised me from her fancy office chair, shaking her red-tipped finger at me. “Don’t be rude to Bertrand. You knew he was going to be here to film our new detective venture for a school project. You agreed to help the youth of America. Now be nice and cooperate, vampire.”

No lies detected. I did agree to let the little Hitchcock in the making film us when we started this kooky detective agency. I agreed because Martymademe agree. She makes me do a lot of crap I don’t want to do and it’s always in the name of “friendship.”

Bertrand moved the camera away momentarily to give me a smug, “Haha! Auntie Marty sure told you, didn’t she?” look.

In return, I flashed my fangs at him with my perfected, “I’ll eat your face off” glare.

Bertrand blanched, visibly cringing, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down along his scrawny neck. Then he eyed me like he was getting ready to push his luck. A big mistake where I’m concerned.

“If you would just wear the mask, Miss Nina, that would really help.”

He licked his lips after he spoke, rocking back and forth on his sneakered feet, his expression cautious.

He’s been the recipient of my unfiltered opinion.

In essence, Bertrand expects me to blow a gasket—which is why I won’t. Oh, and also because Marty and my other BFF, Wanda, asked me not to choose violence and intimidation as a way to solve a problem. I’m only supposed to use that for the bad guys.

Anyway, next up? My other BFF. Wanda Schwartz-Jefferson: Half vampire, half-werewolf, all grace and refined elegance. She’s often compared to the sophistication of Princess Grace of Monaco. Loves to shop as much as Marty. Loves to remind me we’re a team, and if outlet malls are part of being a team, I’d just have to suck it and learn to tolerate shopping.

Peacemaker and referee between me and Marty. Consummate mother, wife, heart as big as a country and gentle in nature until pushed. Married to Heath, with two kids I also love like my own.

Who am I kidding? I love all the damn kids, and animals, and the elderly—until they get to a certain age. Kids, I mean. Not animals and the elderly.

Wanda gave me the old eyeball of death from across our desks—situated in a circle so we could all see each other as we worked—reminding me I’d made a promise not to upset Bertrand.

It was her mom look. You know, the one your mom used to give you when she knew you were about to act up? That one. If she could bottle it, she’d be even richer than she already was.

Popping my lips, I narrowed my eyes in Bertrand’s direction, making his acne-riddled face and horn-rimmed glasses a tiny pinpoint in my vision. I held up the Michael Meyers mask he’d given me between two fingers, letting it dangle.

“You knew when you asked us to do this Dracumentary that you wouldn’t be able to see me on camera,Bertrand.I’m a GD vampire. I’m not wearin’ a mask like some goon at a Halloween party just so I’ll show up on film. You’ll just have to use yourmovie magic and put a big smiley emoticon where my face should be. Be creative. My line’s drawn. Live with it. Now go the hell away.”

Bertrand backed away, probably in fear, and I was okay with that. It helped keep people at a distance when they were afraid.

Some call me intimidating, I call me dipshit proof.

I turned back to Marty, who wore a dumbass hat.

“Why are you wearing that?”

She smiled at me and tapped her head. “It’s giving Sherlock Holmes, don’t you think? I’m dressing the part of detective, silly. You know, to get into character?”

I barked a laugh. “It’s giving ‘this is whacked,’ Marty. Why the fu?—”

“Stop! Stop now!” she yelled, cutting me off while waving her slender finger around. “You promised you’d try and curb your swearing so we don’t scare off potential clients, Nina Statleon. No one wants to hire an irate vampire with the mouth of a sailor on weekend leave. We’re helpers. Remember what Mr. Rogers said? Look for the helpers.Helpersdon’t cuss a blue streak. Theyhelp.”

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