Page 60 of Minnie: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

My gaze instinctively snaps to the redhead, my cock stirs, and I quickly shift my gaze to the front row. It seems wrong to start with the scowling librarian, since she’s holding hands with her even less friendly-looking assistant, and I don’t think he’d like me picturing his girl half-naked. I’d rather not see him scowling in boxers or briefs, so I quickly move on.

My gaze lands on a little old lady who’s cozied up on the lap of a guy my age. His outfit screams sixteenth or seventeenth century with that flashy red and gold doublet and breeches. A cop is seated to her left, massaging her feet, and a guy straight out of Victorian England is on her right, holding her hand, a top hat resting beneath his chair. Despite my brief obsession with British history when I was eight, I can’t even begin to guess what kind of undergarments they might have on. I also have no desire to picture granny panties, and mentally undressing a cop is probably illegal.

My gaze snaps back to the redhead in the glowing pink dress, and then quickly away. I move my eyes over the second row, then the third, and the fourth. I don’t want to know what half of these creatures are packing, or whether it can be contained in their underwear or if they like to go commando. Hell, I’ve never been one for underwear… shit’s itchy and inconvenient, and picturing the audience wearing it makes me wonder if their balls are itchy. Do yetis have balls?

“Fuck, focus, Ash, forget about yeti balls,” I mutter under my breath.

“Did he say just say something about yeti balls?” the little old lady in the front row asks the room at large.

A woman in a hoodie in the back row snickers. “They better not smell like yeti balls.”

I break into a sweat. Or I would if I could sweat. Apparently vampire skin is cold and not conducive to panicked sweating. Literally the only redeemable quality of this new existence, except maybe immortality—and even that I could do without. An endless life of guilt. An endless life of loneliness. An endless life without purpose.

Except, I do have a purpose, I remind myself. To sell some fuzzies.

“That’s what they look like,” I tell the audience, and don’t bother praying they believe me. Prayer is reserved for creatures who deserve it. All that’s left for me is redemption. “Yeti balls.” Or Tribbles from Star Trek, but I’ve been told not to mention that under any circumstance, since polls show it would reduce the likelihood of a vampire wanting to bite them. “But I like to call them fuzzies. And no, they don’t smell like balls.”

There are a few snickers.

And if I wasn’t dead, I’d sigh in relief when Barb pushes a button, and the first slide comes up. Cages and cages of my redemption.

Chapter 31

Minnie

I can’t stop staring into Dr. Ashok Reddy’s deep, dark eyes as his soft, comforting voice echoes through the library’s meeting room. With the fancy title, I expected him to be in his fifties, but he looks around my age… and all I can think is how could someone so hot be so evil?

He makes my heart race. He makes me want to shove the audience listening to his horrible speech aside and throw myself in his arms. I want to run my fingers through his jet-black hair, and pull his head down so I can feel his lips against mine. And with each thought, I hate myself more.

I don’t hear a single word he’s saying, but I know he’s spouting lies. The slide on the screen has fuzzies in ‘cages’ that look more like VIP lounges. The clear walls reveal plush beds, gold food and water bowls, and even wall-mounted screens with FuzzyTV—travel videos from around the world to keep them entertained. It’s a far cry from the metal box Zoe bowled at the monster two years ago, and I know it’s just a distraction from reality. The fuzzies are being sold as food.

Almost every vampire in the room knows the whole thing’s a farce. Zoe and Amber compared notes on the walk over, and it sounded like they managed to reach out to practically every vamp in town between them.

Only reason no one’s shouting ‘liar’ and ‘monster’ is because Violet made the rules clear. We’re allowed to peacefully protest by holding up our signs. We are not allowed to disrupt the library program, or we’ll be asked to leave. And everyone wants to stick around to say their piece. Including me.

I need to stop him from brainwashing good, honest vamps into feeding on their pets. It’s disgusting, and I’m not going to let him get away with it. No matter what!

I hold up my ‘Free the Fuzzies’ sign higher, but the pink rope of magic that connects me to the crazy vamp on the stage mocks me with its fiery glow.

I yawn. Then yawn again.

All the witches in the room can see the fiery magic, and they keep staring at it like they’ve never seen a mate bond before. Which, in a town like Silver Springs, is absurd. All three of Zoe’s mates are here, and turquoise mating bonds connect her to each of her men. Librarian Violet and her bear shifter assistant, Nole, are connected with a purple bond, and purple magic links her to the troll cop, Liam, who’s watching the exit. Then there’s the older vampire Violet, and her three mates, too.

Honestly, the entire room is a mix of mate bonds, and yet no one’s paying attention to any but mine.

Another yawn slips from my lips. Dr. Ashok Reddy notices, and I swear the man blushes. I should be proud of myself for insulting his riveting talk, but now he’s staring at me, while all the witches are staring at our mating bond, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. Which just makes everything ten times worse.

The only consolation is that there aren’t too many witches in the room, so the majority of the audience is blissfully unaware. They think everything is going as planned, and wait for our turn to speak.

Dr. Ashok Reddy finally turns to the audience. “Any questions?”

Xavi raises his hand, and the mad scientist gestures at him. “Yes? The gentleman in the blue shirt.”

“Xavi Izaguirre, independent blogger, formerly with the Silver Springs Herald,” he introduces himself like we’re at a press conference, not the library meeting room. “Dr. Reddy—”

“Just call me Ash,” the mad scientist tells him like they’re old friends.

Sapphire snorts. “Ash Reddy? It’s like he wants to get his ass staked. Hmm… I wouldn’t mind getting my ass staked, if you know what I mean.” She elbows Wim, her wolf shifter mate.