Nina flopped back against the couch and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her full bottom lip was pushed out in a pout. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly, like you told him you were a little older than he thought—or not exactly, like you nipped a little artery but nothing more?”
Nina gasped. “Sophie Lawson! I can’t believe you would say such a thing. You know I adhere to the strictest standards of UDA-V bylaws. I signed a contract. If I eat someone without their express written consent, I lose all my benefits.”
The Underworld Detection Agency not only keeps tabs on the general demon population, but we also offer such services as crossover support groups (going from dead to undead is third only to divorce and moving in terms of stress, I’m told), insurance on everything from graveyard dirt to heirloom family cauldrons, and protection benefits provided to all UDA clients that adhered to the bylaws of their particular sect. Nina, being a vampire, was classified under the UDA-V statute, and requirements for her coverage included things such as no human sacrifice, no demon sing-alongs, and absolutely no feeding on humans or “turning” anyone without their express written consent and/or prior to the mandatory 666-day waiting period. In exchange for her compliance, she could expect an eternity’s worth of legal protection (from demon harassment, car accidents, or separatist issues), everlife assistance, and full-fang dental coverage. It might seem that demons are a wildly unorganized and unruly bunch, but the times we’ve had to “handle” demons that broke their bylaws were extremely rare.
“And besides, ‘I like long walks, puppy dogs, and O-negative blood’ are not the kind of things you spit out on a first date. There are rules of dating properly, you know.”
I wouldn’t know. Between my constant back-and-forth with Alex (or with being nearly killed or almost killed), I hadn’t spent much time in the traditional dating world.
“It’s really the kind of thing you ease into.”
Nina hopped off the couch—her small feet making no indentation in the carpet—and I followed her to the kitchen.
“Yeah, so how did you pull off the ‘I’m just a common breather’ thing while on a date? What did you guys do?”
Nina raised a salacious eyebrow. Her lips curved up coyly. “Aren’t you nosy?”
“Ew, no! I mean seriously, ew. I don’t want to know what you did there. I meant, where did you go for your date?”
Nina rooted through the fridge and came out with a blood bag. She pierced the left-hand corner with one angled fang. “It was amazing. Ooh, this tastes so good. It’s from a young one!”
My liver quivered. “The date?”
“Gary Danko. Have you been there?”
Gary Danko is one of the most exclusive and well-reviewed restaurants in San Francisco. While in most cities, that wouldn’t mean very much, in a town like this one, where amazing food is common in restaurants from the Mission to the Marina, being “the best” was truly a compliment.
And I had never been there. I felt the corners of my lips turn down. “Tell me about it.”
Nina pulled the blood bag away from her lips. “It. Was. Incredible! The ambiance is almost French—and kind of reminds me of this little tiny bistro my father used to take me to, not too far from the house. Anyway, the lighting was soft and beautiful.” Nina fluttered around the kitchen. “And the food—oh, the food! It was to die for.” She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Get it?”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You ate food?”
“Well, I had to eat a little.” Nina inched her thumb and forefinger apart. “Enough to throw Harley off, at least. We ordered carpaccio, so I was able to stomach a little of that. The rest I just found ways to hide.”
“You found ways to hide hunks of raw meat—”
“And truffles and caviar. That Harley knows how to order. We even had oysters! We ended off the evening with a nightcap at the Mark Hopkins. I love that place. Harley is staying there all week. They served us petit fours!”
My mouth started to water and I thought about the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had scarfed down while sitting on the kitchen counter watching Rachael Ray make coq au vin. I was probably cutting away the tuft of green mold on my Health Nut bread while Nina was hiding two-hundred-dollar-a-scoop caviar.
“Hey. Where did you hide the food?” I wanted to know.
Nina finished her blood bag and tossed the empty into the trash. “I stuffed most of it in my purse.” Another pirouette and she disappeared into her room.
I stood, openmouthed and sadly envious of my best friend. She made the most of her afterlife and I ... Well, I had spent the last four hours of my life in a chenille bathrobe while my dog licked crumbs from my chin.
“Hey!” I said, pounding on Nina’s door. “You borrowed my purse tonight!”