The Reformed Vampire Support Group
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Think vampires are romantic, sexy, and powerful? Think again. Vampires are dead. And unless they want to end up staked, they have to give up fanging people, admit their addiction, join a support group, and reform themselves.
Nina Harrison, fanged at fifteen and still living with her mother, hates the Reformed Vampire Support Group meetings every Tuesday night. Even if she does appreciate Dave, who was in a punk band when he was alive, nothing exciting ever happens. That is, until one of group members is mysteriously destroyed by a silver bullet. With Nina (determined to prove that vamps aren't useless or weak) and Dave (secretly in love with Nina) at the helm, the misfit vampires soon band together to track down the hunter, save a werewolf, and keep the world safe from the likes of themselves.
The perfect anecdote to slick vampire novels, this murder-mystery comedy of errors will thrill fans of Evil Genius.
listen?’ I scoffed. ‘What if he shoots first and asks questions later?’ ‘Nina, there won’t be any meaningful dialogue if either participant is armed.’ Sandford spoke with a kind of weary patience, like someone addressing a very small and stupid child. ‘That’s why we have to discover this person’s whereabouts, and make sure he’s not in a defensive mind-set when we approach him. In fact it might be best if Father Ramon talks to him first.’ All eyes swivelled towards the priest, who shrugged and
not used to long hauls like this. You must be getting pretty tired.’ ‘I’m okay.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘I’m sure.’ ‘When did you learn to drive one of these things, anyway? Did your band have its own bus, or what?’ ‘We had a van,’ Dave revealed. ‘With graffiti all over it?’ I always liked to hear about Dave’s short-lived musical career. But for some reason, he preferred not to discuss that stage in his life. I always used to wonder if it reminded him too much of his former girlfriend. ‘We had stickers
devoted to reconnaissance. It seemed that Wolgaroo Corner was located about forty-five minutes to the north of town, along an extremely rough dirt road. ‘I went to the office and asked for directions,’ he explained, once Dave had finished in the bathroom. ‘I said that I was a friend of a friend of Barry McKinnon, just passing through. And you know what the receptionist did?’ Father Ramon paused, but Dave and I just stared at him blankly. So the priest continued. ‘She gave me this,’ he said,
elegant little atomiser. ‘It looks harmless, but it will come in handy if anything goes wrong.’ I have to admit, I was impressed. ‘That’s really gas, Dave.’ ‘Thanks.’ ‘I should have thought of that myself.’ It annoyed me that I hadn’t; once again, I had demonstrated a woeful lack of initiative. ‘Does he know?’ I asked, jerking my chin at our room. Dave shook his head as he climbed up into the front of the van. 101 I could understand his reluctance to inform the priest, though I doubted very
Dave’s tone implied that I was fussing over inessentials. ‘What matters is that we get out of here. Fast.’ ‘And the homeless guy?’ I was referring to the stranger in the spare bedroom. ‘What are we going to do about him? ‘We’ll take him with us.’ I blinked. ‘But we can’t!’ I exclaimed. ‘We have to.’ Dave was insistent. ‘If we leave him here, he might die.’ ‘But we don’t know him, Dave!’ ‘Father Ramon does.’ ‘If that fat man wakes up in a strange house, he’ll freak! He might call the police, or