Fandoms: Good Omens, Harry Potter, Dead Until Dark
Rating: PG-13, for language!
Summary: Jessie just wanted to have a sleepover with her girlfriends...
Disclaimer: Not mine, of course! Crowley and Aziraphale belong to Gaiman and Pratchett. Draco is J.K. Rowling's, and Bill is Charlaine Harris', and Jessie belong to herself.
Notes: I figure it's oka to post this, since it's been a couple of months since Jessie saw it the first time. It was a Christmas present for her!
Warnings: There is blatant self-insertion in this! Hooray! There are also a lot of characters in New Jersey who probably shouldn't be, and plenty of malfunctioning cars. Finally, there are a handful of inside jokes, but the don't render the story unintelligible to outside readers.
The car sputtered and popped, beaching itself on the side of the road despite the efforts of the man behind the wheel. Two men got out. They were both tall and handsome, but one was young and thin and wore a good suit and a black leather overcoat, and the other was heavier, older-looking, and ridiculously out-of-date in terms of fashion.
“My dear, I believe there is a problem with your vehicle,” the older one said, surveying the vehicle. He had close-cut curly blond hair, and stunning blue eyes.
“There’s no problem,” the younger said, in the uninflected manner of someone replying automatically. He had dark hair and was wearing stylish sunglasses despite the early-setting winter sun. He stalked the length of the car, but couldn’t determine why it had quit so suddenly on him. “There is nothing wrong with this car,” he said firmly. It was unclear whether he was trying to convince himself, his companion, or his car.
“Except that it’s not going,” the older man said.
“You’re the one who talked me out of bringing my car over,” the younger snapped. He opened the driver-side door again and groped around under the dashboard until the hood popped. He made a show of looking at the engine, but to be honest (which he never was), he knew nothing at all about how modern cars worked. Come to think about it, he wasn’t too clear on old ones, either.
“I daresay we may need to seek outside assistance.” The older man crossed his arms and pulled his own overcoat tighter against a chill breeze.
“I can make it work,” his companion grated, pulling off a glove and poking around in the engine block. He yelped as some still-hot part burned his finger, and stuck it in his mouth. The he remembered he could will the minor burn away, and reluctantly closed the engine. He straightened up, but couldn’t see his companion. The other man had left him there. He was walking down the road, his head hunched into his collar and his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Hey! Where d’you think you’re going?!”
“I’m going to find someone who will lend us the assistance we need.”
“I told you, I can—!”
“Then stay and do it.”
He hesitated and looked at the car again. It had seemed slick and inviting in the rental center—now it looked dark and menacing (and he knew dark and menacing). “Hmph.” He turned on his heel and stalked after his companion, altering his stride to a saunter as he caught up. Certainly didn’t want to seem as if he’d been hurrying.
Tonight was going to be fun. Jessie’s parents were away for the weekend, and her older brother was off at a concert with his girlfriend. She had the house to herself, and soon her girlfriends would arrive for a most excellent night of movies, giggling, and totally unhealthy food.
Someone knocked on the door. None of her friends ever knocked anymore, and she hadn’t ordered the pizza yet, so she had no idea who it would be. Making sure to slip her cell phone in her pocket—something she always did, just in case—she opened the door. She’d been expecting a family member, or maybe one of her brother’s friends; she was surprised to realize that she had absolutely no idea who the man at the door was.
He was an older man with blond hair, bundled up in a ratty-looking over coat and hunching his shoulders against the wind. He smiled widely when he saw her.
“Excuse me, my dear, I really do hate to bother you,” he said, “but our car seems to have broken down, and we need to phone the agency we rented it from.” He was British—well, his accent was, anyway. “May we come in and use your telephone?”
‘We’? She leaned to the side and looked around him, and yes, there was someone else out there, another man. She’d missed him because of the dark clothes.
“Uh…” Home alone, with no one due to arrive for at least fifteen minutes? She didn’t think so. “I’ll bring you the phone,” she said, and shut the door, locking it for good measure. She grabbed the cordless phone from the dining room and brought it back to the front door, shivering in the cold as she opened it and thrust it at the British man. “Here you go,” she said, and shut the door again.
Why did she have to be home alone tonight? She locked the door for good measure, wishing her house had a normal wooden door instead of their frosted glass affair, and hurried to her room. There was practically no service in her house, but if she stood just the right way by the window, she could call out and be understood on the other end of the line. She hit the number for the house down the road.
“Janella? Can you and Jolie come now?” she asked. “It’s urgent.”
The door rattled, and then someone rapped heavily and rapidly on the wood framing the glass. Jessie rushed to let Janella and Jolie in, and looked askance as only Janella came through. She locked the door again behind her anyway.
“Did you know there’s a couple of British guys using your phone out there?” Janella asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the door.
“Why do you think I called you?” Jessie asked, waving them up into the kitchen. She felt better already, now that she wasn’t alone. “They just showed up out of nowhere. It’s weird!”
“Ew, that is weird,” Janella said, adding, “Jolie can’t come ‘til later. Alec’s come over unannounced, so she’ll be occupied for a while.”
Jessie shuddered. “As long as she doesn’t try to bring him here,” she muttered.
“She won’t. So what’s up with the British guys?”
“I already told you!”
“Out of nowhere?” she asked. “What’d they say?”
“The older one said their car broke down,” Jessie explained. “So I gave him the phone and locked the door.”
“Smart,” Janella said, nodding approval. “I can see why you said it was urgent.”
“What were they saying? Could you hear?” Jess asked, looking out the kitchen window. She could see them, standing in the light from the little overhang that shielded the front door.
“The guy in black was arguing with somebody, it sounded like,” Janella said, shrugging. “I don’t know who. The other guy smiled at me and bid me good evening.”
“That doesn’t sound dangerous,” Jessie said.
Janella only shrugged. “You never know,” she said. “Believe me. I watch Unsolved Mysteries.”
There came more knocking. Jessie glanced at Janella, and went to open it once more. “I do hate to bother you again, dear girl,” the blond said, “but what’s the address here? We need to tell the repairmen where to come.” Jessie thought about it for a minute, but finally told him. He thanked her, and she closed the door.
“I guess a repairman’s coming,” she said. Janella shrugged again. They moved back into the kitchen, and gravitated immediately to the window, watching the two men through it. A few minutes later, they saw the blond one move into the little overhang, and Jessie went to answer the door again. Janella stood on the threshold between kitchen and hall and watched.
“Here’s your telephone back,” the man said, handing her the cordless. “Thank you very much—we were able to get in touch with the repair agency, and they’ll be sending a truck.” He paused, and suddenly began to look uncomfortable. “They won’t be here for over an hour…is there any chance that we could perhaps wait inside?”
Eek. She’d been afraid he’d ask that.
“Give me a second,” she said with her brightest smile, before practically slamming the door in his face. She turned to Janella. “They want to come in!”
“Eek. How long ‘til their tow comes, or whatever?”
“Over an hour!”
“Shoot. We can’t let them sit outside in the winter night for an hour.” Janella frowned and looked pensive. “All right, hang on.” She picked a drawer and rummaged around in it. “Er…where d’you keep the knives?”
“Yeah. Gimme your biggest.”
Jessie shut the drawer Janella’d been rifling through and opened another. She handed Janella a foot-long butcher knife.
“Excellent,” Janella said. She grabbed a dishrag, wrapped it around the blade, and stuck it down the back of her pants. “Glad I wore a belt today,” she muttered, tightening it to pin the knife in place. She pulled her sweatshirt down to cover it, and turned to face Jessie. “Good?”
“There’s a lump,” Jessie said. Janella picked up her leather jacket and put it back on. The stiff leather covered the bulge of the handle. “Better.”
“Okay, let ‘em in,” Janella commanded.
“…You’re crazy,” Jessie told her. She shook her head, touched the cell phone in her pocket reassuringly, and went to let them in.
The brat in the back of the limousine was muttering something. The driver felt pretty sure it was derogatory, but it didn’t really make any sense. He was also pretty sure at this point that the kid was deranged, and definitely understood why his father couldn’t be bothered to drive him around himself.
He was pretty sure he was lost. He’d tried to take some back roads, to avoid highway traffic (which made the kid nervous and snappy), and…well, he was almost definitely lost.
He lost control of the limo, which seemed to jump off the road and plow a furrow in the grass. He swore, slammed on the brakes, and wrenched the key out of the ignition as soon as the car had stopped. Before the kid in the back got a chance to say anything, he opened to door and hopped out.
He’d blown a tire. Oh hell. That was the last thing he needed, especially since he knew the limo had a spare tire, but no jack. There was a house ahead and to the left, with a lot of lights on. Since the farm house behind him and the little shack to his right were both dark, he started walking for the lit house.
“Hey! Hey, where do you think you’re going?!” the kid demanded. He’d opened the door and was leaning out, yelling. “What’s happened to your—machine thing?!”
“We blew a tire,” he said curtly, not wanting to have too much to do with this snotty little teen he was pretty sure belonged to a cult. “I’m going to get what I need to fix it. Stay in the limo.”
“You can’t order me around, Muggle!”
“Fine. Then you can walk with me, in the cold, up that hill over there, and help me carry a heavy, oily piece of metal back down here so we can fix the car.”
The expression of disgust on the brat’s face was clear. “I’ll be telling my father about this,” he threatened vaguely, but he got back in the car and shut the door. The driver didn’t care what the hell he did, as long as he wasn’t whining in his ear the whole time. He ran across the road, climbed the hill, and knocked on the door.
Someone was knocking on the door, and seeing as both of the British men were sitting uncomfortably on the couch, it had to be something else. Jessie still hadn’t gotten around to ordering the food, so it had to be someone else. Again. She exchanged glances with Janella, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
“I’m doing the tea,” Jessie said. “You answer the door.”
Janella fingered the knife handle at the small of her back and nodded. She hurried to the door, and stared at the man in livery who stood just outside.
“Hey, can you help me?” he asked, digging in his pocket for something. She tensed and edged one hand behind her back, but all he did was pull out a wallet. He flipped it open and showed her a license. “I’m a limo driver with this service in New York, and I blew a tire. D’you have a jack I can borrow to change it?”
“A jack?” she asked. “Um. It’s not my house, but if you wait just a minute, I’ll ask the…someone who lives here.” Not letting him know how many people were home was probably a good idea.
“Thanks, kid,” the driver said with a nod. She shut the door.
“Jessie!” she wailed, rushing back into the kitchen. Jessie was gone, but Janella swung into the living room and found her serving tea to the two men. “Do you have a jack?”
“A jack? What?”
Janella grinned apologetically at the British guys and pulled Jessie around the divider into the dining room. “There’s a limo driver out there, looking for a jack so he can change one of his limo tires.”
Jessie frowned. “This is weird.”
“Oh, is it?”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” Jessie said.
“Just tell me where the jack is so I can give it to this guy, will ya?”
“It’s in the shed, under the…I better show you,” she said. “Let me tell the, uh—”
Janella sprinted (carefully) back to the door, and smiled at the limo driver. “My friend will be right out and we’ll get it for you,” she said, lingering in the open door, waiting for Jessie. They both came out, and he trailed them across the driveway and over to the shed. Jess opened it up, and they both made a show of rummaging around looking for the jack.
“Hey! Muggle! I’m cold and hungry and one of these metal death things just came screaming over the hill and almost killed me!”
The driver spun on his heel and groaned.
“What’s up?” Janella asked him.
“Oh, I’m chauffeuring this little ass around,” he whispered to her. “He’s really starting to get on my nerves!” He raised his voice again. “Sir, I really must insist that you return to the vehicle.”
“No! It’s cold in there, and it almost got hit by another one of these Muggle excuses for brooms!” A platinum blond head rose over the crest of the bank that sloped down to the road like a moon rising. “I refuse!”
“Sir, would you rather stand out in the cold?”
“No! If you don’t address this situation right now, I’ll tell my father!”
The driver groaned again. “This kid is driving me crazy,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth to Janella.
“Found it,” Jessie said. “Who’s yelling?”
“Some brat,” Janella told her, sotto voce. Jessie hauled the jack out of the shed and looked at the slender boy, who was wearing a suit at least as exquisitely tailored as the one the man in the sunglasses had on.
“Ooh,” Jessie said. “Nice looking brat. Another Brit?”
“Sounds like it.”
The blond boy noticed her staring and sneered at her. “What are you staring at?” he demanded.
“I like the flashy bastard in your living room better,” Janella whispered, hopping out of the shed. “Here’s the jack, man,” she said to the limo driver. “I’d offer to help you change the tire, but I’m weak, it’s dark, and we’ve got two other poor slobs with car problems sitting in the living room.”
“I understand. Thanks for the help, girls.”
“Well?” the kid demanded, planting himself in front of the much bulkier limo driver. “I told you, I’m cold and I refuse to sit in that inferior piece of trash anymore! So do something about it!”
“Come inside,” Jessie told him. Limo driver and boy alike gaped at her. “We’re already tending unexpected guests,” she said with a shrug. “Might as well take another.”
“Go…in…your house?” the boy asked. The way he said ‘house’ equated it with a rat hole.
“It’s that or freeze in the car, kid,” the driver said, latching onto the offer fervently. “Your choice.”
The boy looked between his driver and the two of them. “…Fine,” he said finally. “Fine. I’ll come in.”
“Come on,” Jessie said, walking towards the door.
“Thank you,” the driver mouthed at them exaggeratedly. Janella gave him a thumbs-up and winked before she followed her friend.
They sat the boy down in the living room on the free couch section. He stared warily at the other two house guests, who looked back with arch indifference on the part of the younger man, and pleasant welcome on the part of the older. Jessie got another mug for tea.
Nobody said anything. The boy refused the tea with a look of utter repulsion on his face.
“It’s really quite good,” the older man said at the boy’s refusal, nodding at his hostess. “For American tea, anyway,” he amended, but he smiled so sweetly when he said it that it couldn’t be taken as an insult.
Janella giggled. “It’s okay to say that it’s rubbish if it is,” she said, smiling herself.
“It really isn’t,” the man insisted, though there may have been a hint of strain in his polite disavowal.
“You want tea, Janella?” Jess asked, offering her the mug the boy had denied. Janella, acutely conscious of the knife pressed against her back where she was leaning against the wall and not quite yet willing to relax, shook her head.
“I’m good for now,” she said. “You have it.”
“Then I must have sugar,” Jess said solemnly, and went to march out of the room again. To her surprise, the boy stopped her, grabbing her arm as she passed (and letting go as soon as she’d stopped).
“I changed my mind,” he announced. “I want some now. With milk.”
“Please,” the older man said, like a teacher trying to impress manners on a small child.
The boy turned up his nose and refused to say it. Jessie brought him the tea anyway. Then it was silent again, as everyone but Janella sipped at their mugs.
“So, your name is Janella?” the genial man asked her, in a desperately conversational tone.
“That’s very pretty,” he said. She blushed. “Unusual.”
“What’s yours, sir,” she asked, “if I may inquire?”
“You may,” he said, “and you may call me Mr. Fell.” He nudged the dark man sharply. “My associate here is Mr. Crowley.”
Mr. Crowley smiled thinly. “Charmed,” he said, completely insincerely.
“How about you, dear boy?” Mr. Fell said pointedly to the young blond.
“Don’t call me that, pansy,” the boy snapped. “My name’s not for your filthy Muggle tongue to say.”
Mr. Fell drew, back, looking affronted. “Your manners are atrocious,” he said, sounding absolutely appalled. Janella and Jessie were feeling rather appalled themselves.
“Well, I guess we’ll all have to call you Dear Boy,” Jessie said, “if you won’t tell us your name.”
“How’s the tea, Dear Boy?” Janella asked maliciously.
The boy’s pale face flushed, turning red. For a moment, his hand disappeared inside his blazer, but with visible effort he brought it back out. He muttered something.
“What was that?” Jessie asked sweetly.
“I said, you may call me Draco,” he muttered, just loud enough to hear.
“Now that’s an unusual name,” Mr. Crowley declared with a smirk.
The tall man, behind the wheel of his rental car, swore softly. He was beginning to suspect he’d taken a wrong turn, and he had a plane to catch as soon as possible if he was going to get back to his girlfriend in Louisiana by tonight.
He was absolutely lost.
He came up over the curve of the hill, and slammed on the brakes at the sight of a limousine. It was pulled over on the side of the road with its lights flashing; a man crouched at the tire.
He slowed the car and pulled over, rolling down the passenger side window and hating how cold it was around here. “Excuse me, sir,” he called, “but I’m lost. D’you think—?”
“I’m just a limo driver, man,” the guy interrupted him quickly. “I’m not even sure I know where I am right now. But,” he added quickly, holding up a hand to forestall any questions, “there’s a couple of really nice chicks in that house up there that can probably help you.” He pointed.
“Up there?” the tall man repeated.
“All right,” he said. “Thanks.” He rolled the window up again and drove the two dozen feet to the driveway, turning up. He just hoped he hadn’t gotten too lost, or he’d have to go back to New York and spend another day at the hotel before going home.
“No, I’ll admit that I haven’t read much Wilde,” Janella was saying when the door was knocked on once again. Without missing a beat she pointed at Jessie and said, “You get it.”
“Oh thank God,” Jessie muttered, “the pizza’s here!” When Amber had called about twenty minutes ago to say she wouldn’t be able to make it tonight, Jessie had decided to just go ahead and order the food. She was glad it had come so quickly, because it would be great to have something to do other than sit there, staring and being stared at while Janella and Mr. Fell babbled about books.
She opened the door. It wasn’t the pizza guy, it was a tall, pale man, well-dressed and with his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He smiled politely at her. It may have been a trick of the light, but she was pretty sure he was glowing slightly.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said in a voice with a distinct Southern accent. “My name’s Bill, and I’m lost. Can you give me directions to Newark International Airport?”
“Newark?” she repeated. “Man, you are lost.” What the hell? Might as well go for broke. “Come on in, I’ll write you out some directions.” He followed her inside, looking just as out-of-place as any of the rest of their erstwhile guests. She rummaged around on the kitchen island, finding a pen and a little memo pad.
“Is it the pizza?” Janella called from the living room.
“Okay!” She smiled as she heard the chatter resume. She clicked the pen, and flicked open the notebook—just a little too fast.
“Ow!” She frowned, and stuck the tip of her now-bleeding finger in her mouth. “Damn.” She glanced at her guest and smiled apologetically around her finger.
He was staring at her, his lips slightly parted. She might have been mistaken, but she though she detected the glint of incisors—long incisors—in his mouth. She felt her heart quicken.
“Let me, uh, just get a Band-Aid,” she mumbled, and rushed into the bathroom. She washed the blood off her finger, gritting her teeth against the sting of water in the paper-cut. She stuck the Band-Aid on and took a deep breath.
The vampire was still in her kitchen, standing with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. She returned, and he looked sharply at her. “Sorry about that,” she muttered, smiling a little nervously, and picking up the pen. She bent her head to the pad and hurried to scribble out the directions.
“Jess?” Janella said, interrupting her from behind. She had a mug in her hands. “Oh, hello,” she said as she noticed there was yet another strange man in Jessie’s kitchen. “Did your car break down too?”
“Just lost, miss,” the vampire said politely. Janella didn’t seem to notice a thing out of the ordinary.
“Lucky you,” she said. “Mr. Fell needs a refill on his tea, but everyone else is just letting theirs get cold.” She refilled his mug and retreated, winking at Jess as she went. Well, she’d noticed something, then.
She finished the directions, which got him from Route 46 to the airport, and told him quickly how to get from her house to Forty-Six. She handed him the sheet, and ushered him towards the door.
“Thank you,” he said, as she held the door for him.
“No problem,” she said, looking at her feet. She started when he took her hand, the one she’d cut, but all he did was bow over it like an old-fashioned gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. Hell, he probably was an old-fashioned gentleman.
“You’ve been very kind,” he said solemnly. Then he was gone. Shaken, she returned inside.
Janella was sitting awkwardly on the arm of the couch by Mr. Fell, trying not to stab the seat of her pants out. She had been delighted to find him an intelligent and well-read man, and wondered how they could have ever thought him dangerous. She felt foolish with a knife sticking down her butt, but figured if the Draco kid made one more arrogant comment, she could at least smack him with it.
Jessie returned, looking a little rattled, and turned a chair around from the dining room table to sit on.
“You all right?” Janella asked, holding up a hand to stall Mr. Fell’s enthusing on his book collection.
“Fine,” Jessie said, smiling reassuringly. Janella didn’t believe her, but she certainly couldn’t ask now.
Draco crossed his arms, stubbornly, and demanded of Jessie, “Is that…man finished repairing the…mechanical broom, yet?”
Jessie stared at him, even while Mr. Crowley turned his head away and sniggered.
“It’s a limo, man, and how should I know?” She got up and crossed to the big picture window, pulling the curtains and looking down the road. “I can’t see from here!”
Draco crossed his arms and actually, truly pouted. She had to repress a snigger of her own at the expression, which looked out of place on the face of a boy she figured was nearly her own age.
Mr. Crowley slouched back in his seat. “What’s wrong, boy?” he asked. “Eager to get back in the broom?”
“Why would I be eager to get into that thing?” Draco snapped back. “It’s inferior!”
“To what? A stick with fuzz on the end?” He raised an eyebrow, visible only as a dark line lifting above the rim of his sunglasses, which he hadn’t taken off. “Seems pretty dodgy to me.”
“It’s more reliable than that hunk outside!”
“Would you pipe down?” Jess snapped at Draco. “It’s a car. Sometimes cars break down. And you!” She pinioned Mr. Crowley with a glare. “Stop baiting him.”
Draco quieted down, looking away from the couch with the dark man on it. Mr. Crowley smirked, and took a deliberate sip of his tea. It must have been unpleasantly cold by that point, but he didn’t show it.
As if it were a challenge, Draco lifted his own mug and took a long sip. Janella caught Jessie’s eye and lifted her eyebrows suggestively. Jess shook her head, and Janella returned to her conversation with Mr. Fell.
Not too long after that, knocking on the door interrupted the posturing competition between Draco and Mr. Crowley. Jess jumped to answer the door; to her relief, it was the limo driver, and not some other stunningly handsome mystery man with car problems.
“I left your jack outside the shed, kid,” he said. “Thanks for the loan. The brat still in here?”
“Well, it’s not like he ran off,” she said. “I’ll get him.”
Jessie turned around. “Draco!” she yelled. “Your ride is ready!”
He came into the kitchen and made his way towards her. He edged past her in the hall, as if he didn’t want to touch her, but then stopped. “Th—thank you,” he said with strained formality, “for the tea. It was…kind.” He said ‘kind’ as if the word choked him, and walked out. The driver pointed him down the hill, and she distinctly saw him shiver unhappily. He turned back briefly, and she thought…maybe she saw a hint of smile. Maybe.
It could have been a trick of the light.
The pizza came not five minutes after Draco had left, and the tow truck for the rental car twenty minutes after that. Jess was glad to have all these strangers out of the house, though Janella was clearly sad that Mr. Fell was leaving.
“I truly am sorry, my dear, but I simply cannot stay,” he said to her as they were leaving. He leaned close and, in an exaggerated whisper, told her, “I don’t trust Crowley on his own, you see. It’s his fault we stranded in the first place.”
“It is not!” Mr. Crowley protested. Janella stifled a remarkably girlish giggle.
“Well, if you’ve got to go and keep him in line,” she said with feigned reluctance. “But…here.” She pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand. “If you get bored one day and feel like making an international call.” Her cheeks flushed. Jessie stared at her in shock, and glanced over at Mr. Crowley. He looked rather shocked himself.
“He’s way too old for her,” she whispered to him.
“You have no idea,” he whispered back.
Mr. Fell gave Janella a brief, warm hug. “It was pleasant,” he said, to both of them. “Thank you for your remarkable kindness.” He joined Mr. Crowley, and nudged him sharply in the side.
“Yeah, uh, thanks,” he said, looking anywhere but at them. “Would have been cold, and all that.”
“Come on, you guys, I don’t have all night!” the truck driver bellowed, and they hurried down the drive to meet him.
“Janella, ew!” Jessie said as soon as the door closed. “He’s old!”
“Hey!” Janella protested, making a show of stomping up the short stairs and taking her seat at the table. “World’s youngest Bowie, fan, remember?” she said, pulling a slice of the pizza to a plate. “Mmm…David Bowie.” She grinned toothily and fished the knife out of her pants.
“I’m also pretty sure he was—”
“Nice and polite,” Janella said, with a significant glare that told Jessie her friend knew exactly what she was about to say. “But what was up with Dear Boy?”
“I don’t know, but he was pretty hot,” she said. “Not wrinkly at all!”
“You shut up, or I’ll call Travis and tell him you’ve got a new boyfriend!”
“I would have sworn you’d have gone for tall, skinny, and handsome,” Jessie said.
“You mean silent, sunglassed, and sarcastic?” she asked. “He was hot as hell, but Mr. Fell was quite the nice guy. And he reads!” She grinned wryly at Jessie. “What about Mr. Lost?”
“Gave him directions to Newark Airport,” Jessie muttered, looking away. Out of all the weird stuff that had happened tonight, that was the weirdest. “I…think he was a vampire.”
“Seriously?” Janella looked contemplative at that. “We could ask Ed—he might know.”
“That’s a very good idea. Let me get my keys,” she said, “and we’ll run down to your house to get the Ouija board!”