Anyway, Nina is the trio’s resident vampire, adorned with almond-shaped eyes the color of coal and luxurious raven hair totally untouched by any sort of finery. In other words, according to the two previously mentioned maidens, a total babe without even trying.
Dark, broody—dare I say crusty?—and easily provoked, she’s a lover of whatever doesn’t irritate her. Which is next to nothing except for five things: All animals, the elderly, children, someone in paranormal distress, and Barry Manilow. Mother to little vampini Charlie, surrogate mother to zombie Carl, and happily married wife of Gregori.
On this bright, crisp pre-winter day in December, the women and their zombie Carl find themselves fresh off their recent OOPS (Out In The Open Paranormal Support; a crisis hotline, as such) case. A harrowing encounter, wherein they came to blows with the goddess of disorder and chaos, Eris, in a mythological battle to the bitter end to save their friend and client Quinn Morris from certain death.
It was all manner of crazy, people. Fire-breathing horses, serpents, even a Cyclops (hand to heart—swear it’s true) were among their foes—all of which they valiantly conquered like the true warriors they are. That skirmish included Carl, our sweet, sweet zombie, who defeated said Cyclops by using a mighty blow to his big, scary eyeball with, of all things, a copy of Jane Eyre.
Obviously, fine readers, the three fair maidens and one zombie were in dire need of some R and R. So on this unusually chilly, early December day, the gregarious and light-of-heart maiden Marty suggested a shopping trip to the outlet mall in Jersey (I think like exit 92 off the turnpike, for those of you who speak Jersey), one of her and Wanda’s favorite places to unwind, regroup, and most importantly, spend quality time girl-bonding.
Little did they know this particular day would not only change their lives forever, but take them on a treacherous journey filled with pitfalls, magic, a new pair of shoes (so cute!)—and bad, bad dudes.
Lots of bad dudes…
“Oh my God, Wanda! Would you look at this? Only twenty bucks!”
If Antonia Vitali had heard the name correctly, a woman named Marty held up a short, flirty skirt she’d pulled from the rack and was now waving it at a woman named Wanda, who was plowing her way through a pile of seventy-five-percent-off silk scarves.
Wanda’s elegantly coiffed head popped up, one long chestnut strand of hair out of place from her rabid hunt for the perfect scarf. She’d walked into Discount Designers as though she were royalty and had proceeded to methodically work her way through every sale rack in mere minutes. Tall, stately, wearing clothes Toni could only guess cost more than her entire wardrobe.
“Shut the front door, Marty!” Wanda squealed, her eyes glazed as she blew the errant hair from her face. “I don’t know what to look at first. There’s sooo much!”
“Look at the door first, halfsie. See the one that says ‘Exit’? The one we should be walking right the shit out of? Look at that first,” complained the frightfully pale woman named Nina, wearing a T-shirt that read “I Am A Delicate Fucking Flower” and leaning against the far wall, pushing her sunglasses back up onto the bridge of her zinc-covered nose.
Toni’s manager Bree, aka the most vapid twenty-year-old in the world and younger than Toni by twelve years, cocked her head at Nina, assessing her long, slender limbs. “You know, there’s a dress over there that would change your life!”
She pointed to the far left side of the store, where racks and racks of discounted designer dresses in multiple colors hung, as though she had some huge fabric lottery win she’d chosen to share with the lucky pale woman.
Nina rolled her tongue in her cheek, lifting her sunglasses just a hair to glower down at Bree. “I’d have to have a life to change to wear a dress—or actually give a shit.”
Right on, Colorless One, Toni silently cheered, fighting a chuckle while trying to make it appear as though she was deeply immersed in arranging the stack of leggings just delivered this morning.