~

So, we were having a vampire for dinner, not literally, and I really had the urge just to chuck a bloody steak at him and tell him to have at it, but he was Gran’s guest, whatever that meant, and the two of them were off in Gran’s greenhouse, whispering about – things – presumably from their past.

I imagine that Eileen was probably barricaded in her room bulk scanning books on vamps, dad was pacing in the living room, his hands clasped behind his back and wearing a scowl, Moira was making herself pretty, not sure why, and my mother and I were dancing around each other in the kitchen, careful not to get in each other’s way as we cooked a feast for the family – and our bloodsucking guest.

Just another night then, or not.

“Werewolf you say?” Mother asked, juggling hot rolls, and scowling at them as if they’d insulted her way of cooking them.

“Big as you like knocked me down and made a beeline for Moira,” I whispered in case Eileen was eavesdropping.

“Moira,” she repeated.

“Your daughter,” I shot back, and she offered me a glare.

“I seem to remember her.” Her acid tone said; cease and desist.

“MacDrac tossed him off … I’ll rephrase that,” I said, noting my mother’s smirk.

“Please do. He wasn’t my type,” the vampire announced and my mother spun towards the sound of his voice, sending the hot rolls bouncing around the kitchen floor. “Five-second rule?”

“Yuck,” I grunted in distaste, but I guess the guy did drink blood so why would a few germ covered rolls bother him?

“Just offer them to the people you don’t like…”

“Want a bread roll?” I asked and got a smile back that was somewhat hot, or not, considering his dietary requirements.

“Nobody’s vanquished you yet then,” Moira asked, walking past the doorway behind him.

“You can’t vanquish a vampire,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

“Burn them!” Eileen shouted from the dining room. “Stake them, tear them apart limb from limb…”

“Conversation’s going to be a lively one tonight,” he chuckled.

“My sister’s a little…”

“Bloodthirsty? I know the type.” He grinned and boy was he hot.

Not that I’d ever consider – I mean, sure, but there was the whole blood sucky thing, the fact that he was … looked younger than me, and then – Jack – no, I hated Jack. Jack was the enemy.

“Who’s Jack?”

Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather. The books win out again. He was a thought thief. “Mind your own…”

“Detective Jack,” my mother offered, and I grumbled in annoyance.

“That’s ok; I try not to eat the police – they taste – sour. But I’m still trying to wrap my head around how hot you think I am,” he offered me a wickedly teasing grin.

“Tell me, can you hear what I’m thinking now?” I thought one curse word after another.

“I’m blushing,” he tossed back. “So, where do you want me…?”

“Back in your grave,” Eileen tossed out from the other room.

“You can sit next to Eileen,” Moira called, and I heard Eileen’s whimper loud and clear. He chuckled.

“This is going to be such fun. Getting to know the family.” He wiggled his dark eyebrows at me, and I groaned inwardly, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he was getting to me.

 

~

 

“Look if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes then I would have thought that Gran had been hitting a few too many nips of Scotch myself,” I said and got a steely gaze for that from Gran, who seemed a little more with it since the vampire had shown up.

Apparently, his name wasn’t MacDrac, it was Duncan MacPherson, not exactly something that screamed vampire at you, and I liked my moniker for him better.

“Werewolf,” Eileen shivered once more, she seemed to do that every time the were-beastie was mentioned, or she snuck a look at the vampire. Not that he was helping matters by grinning and waving at her down the table all the time. “Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m guessing the poor slob sprouting fur, fleas and fangs doesn’t enjoy it much themselves,” Moira offered back with a wicked look of teasing on her face, and amusement in her eyes. “Speaking of fang, do we know who he, and that’s an assumption of gender, is?”

“That would be the MacNabbie bloodline, I assume they’re the only ones left on Skye, kind of out if the loop…” the vampire stopped talking when he realized that Moira, Eileen and I were sort of stuck in varying stages of eating.

We all gawked at him with, more than surprise, more like total and complete bloomin’ shock.

“Ross…” Moira said absently, and I looked anywhere else but at her when she tossed a look in my direction. “Oh, my – Goddess! You were trying to set me up with Ross MacDribbles!”

“Who me?” I tried for innocent as she seethed.

“You!”

“Was not.”

“Was fang deep in furry butthead to.”

Well, what did you say to that?

“Just think how cute your little wolf puppy offspring would have been.” I grinned because I could and because it almost made her head explode.

“But Moira hates walking, and we all know a healthy pup needs to be walked three times a day,” Eileen offered, and I really couldn’t decide if she was being serious or not. She looked thoughtful, but it was the look of pure disbelief on Moira’s face as she turned in slow motion to glare at my sister that I kind of wished I had a camera to record. Classic.

“She has to have been adopted – was she a faerie child by any chance?” Moira groundout.

“Stop being mean to your sister,” Dad berated Moira, but he did hide a snigger behind his hand.

“Ross, a werewolf – who’d have thought it? I guess you’ll be joining PETA now then,” I grinned, getting over my shock so that I could have a dig at my sister because this once in a lifetime opportunity was golden.

Moira turned that slow glare on me. Ha! Suck it.

“How have we never seen his … thing before?” Moira asked waving her hand and ignoring my jibe.

“It’s not for the want of him not trying, Moira; he’ll show you his thing anytime…” I got one of those throat clearing things from Gran.

“You…” Moira bit down on the word that I could definitely read in her expression.

“Something must have triggered his gene,” Duncan said with a shrug.

“Murder will do that,” Gran mused.

“You think Ross is killing people?” Moira was wide-eyed and crazy looking; I guess it was a lot to take in, the guy you were sweet on having a furry, fanged side to his personality.

“I can’t see Ross, the cookie monster, killing people,” I added.

“Could you see him as a werewolf?” Duncan asked, and he had a point, but still – Ross?

“So, we have to kill him, right?” Moira said and winced as if that thought had come as a complete surprise to her and was distasteful to boot.

“But, why would he go after Moira?” I asked, as much to myself as to anyone else in the room.

“She could be his one,” Duncan said with a sideways look at Gran.

“What one?” Moira demanded.

“Oh dear,” Gran muttered.

“A mate…” Duncan barely got the word out when Moira choked on her own tongue.

“Those are real?” Eileen asked, and when the vampire nodded, she snorted a chuckle. “Glad that’s not me.”

“You have other problems…” Duncan said, but Moira cut him off before he could say any more.

“So, we have to kill Ross, right?” Moira demanded with a little more acidity to her tone.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…” I chuckled as I received another death glare from my sister.

“Not funny,” Moira bit out.

“I liked it,” I wiggled my eyebrows at her just to add insult to injury, and because Moira’s head might just explode.

“Me too,” Duncan grinned at me.

“Stop grinning like that,” I shot back on a scowl.

“Unnerving, right?” he asked. “You’re waiting for a little fang?”

“I’m sure that’s a problem for you, everything is little,” I tossed back and heard dad chuckle.

“That’s not appropriate talk at the dinner table.” Gran scolded me.

“So, we kill Ross, right?” Moira demanded again.

“You have two bloodthirsty daughters; they put vampires to shame.” Duncan chuckled, sitting back in his chair and looking at home like he belonged.

Well, he wasn’t getting comfy in our house for long.

“Does Ross know he’s a werewolf?” Eileen asked.

“It’s kind of hard to miss the whole fur and fangs thing,” Duncan said, tossing a look at her, and she snapped her gaze elsewhere.

“He does know we’re witches, maybe that’s why he came after Moira,” I said and heard the slow wheeze from Gran and knew that I’d said too much.

Whoops.

“He does?” Gran said, less a question and more an accusation.

“He does – now,” Moira dropped me right in the poop.

“Well, if he didn’t then, he would have after you zapped his furry alter ego, no?” I shot back, hoping to deflect from the problem at hand, and that problem was how to tell the others about…

“She zapped Jack!” Moira lifted a hand and pointed her finger at me. Problem solved, I no longer had to wonder how to break the news, as my rat of a sister did it for me.

Everyone turned to stare at me.

“The outlander knows you’re a witch?” Gran shrieked.

“She’s got a werewolf boyfriend,” I shot back. “How’d you like those apples?”

As deflections go – it didn’t fly. Anarchy erupted around the table, and Moira sat back with a satisfied smirk.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and couldn’t help thinking of Jack. Where Gran was concerned, he didn’t have a clue what was coming.

Then a loud whistle went up, and silence snapped into being. My ears buzzed with thanks for the vampire’s intervention.

“We have a bigger problem than Jack the outlander knowing about witches, no?” Duncan asked, and screwed up faces glared back at him in varying stages of annoyance because when the fur flew in my house, we all found it hard not to get our pound of flesh.

“Says the outlander…” I muttered.

“Born and raised on Skye.” He wiggled those stupid eyebrows at me again, and I still had my lady razors – I wondered if vampires did sleep.

“Like killing Ross,” Moira said.

“Like something killing witches,” Duncan reminded her, and she squirmed in place.

“There is that,” she muttered.

Personally, I like the vampire’s style. He certainly brought my insane family to heel.