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“That’s so fuckin’ gross,” Amaliya said at last, her lip curling with distaste.

“Look, bitch-face, you dragged me all the way to Waco, so the least you can do is let me eat my supper in peace, okay?” Samantha gave Amaliya wide, fake smile, then took an obscenely large bite of her burger.

“Do you have to eat it so...messily?”

Rolling her eyes, Samantha shoved another fry in her mouth.

Seated inside the Denny’s on the outskirts of Waco, Texas, the two women were awaiting the arrival of two emissaries from the vampires who ruled over Dallas and Houston. The restaurant was attached to a big truck stop that catered to the long distance drivers. A few weary-looking families were clustered around tables and a young teenage couple flirted outrageously in one corner. Two truckers sat at a corner table nursing cup after cup of steaming coffee.

Though it was Thanksgiving Day, there were already Christmas decorations on the walls. A year ago Amaliya would have been sitting in her father’s living room watching TV while recovering from a massive feast of fried turkey and all the traditional side dishes. This year she was steeped in the middle of vampire politics, a supernatural war, and considered dead to her family.

Tilting the brim of her black straw cowboy hat, Amaliya glanced out into the darkness filling the world beyond the windows of the restaurant. Her necromantic power slithered out of her, tasting the night. The dead tucked into the graveyards in the town stirred in their graves, but Amaliya left them to their rest. She didn’t sense any vampires lurking, but in the last few months she had learned that she wasn’t always able to detect supernatural creatures.

“Roberto says it’s all clear,” Samantha informed her. She dabbed the remains of her burger into a blob of ketchup before shoving it into her mouth.

The mere mention of the ghost Samantha used as her personal assistant brought a frown to Amaliya’s face. She didn’t like Roberto in life and definitely not in death.

Folding her arms on the table, the heavy studded leather bracers on Amaliya’s wrists clunked against the surface. “Tell him he better keep an eye out for black witches. We don’t need to get jumped by them again.”

“He heard you. He’s not deaf,” Samantha reminded Amaliya. “You know, I can make it so you can see him.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you touch him and make him solid so I can punch him in the face a few times.” Amaliya flashed a wide smile.

The blonde flinched a few seconds after Amaliya’s comment.

“Did he just say something?” Amaliya demanded.

“Kinda.” Samantha made a big show of drinking her soda.

“What did he say?” Amaliya leaned forward, her blue-gray eyes raking over the area surrounding their table. The arrogant ghost was probably being a dick again. They had not liked each other when he’d been alive, and that animosity had not diminished with his death.

The phasmagus continued to gulp down her drink, making sure she couldn’t answer right away. Maybe she was right to avoid answering. The atmosphere was tense enough as it was without adding

to it.

“I need a cigarette,” Amaliya groused.

“You’re a vampire and still addicted. So sad,” Samantha shook her head. She was teasing Amaliya, trying to alleviate her anxiety.

Amaliya snarled, but it was playful. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders to her waist, covering her tank top. Her rebellious streak had hit her at the last minute before their departure from Austin and she’d shed her plain black shirt for one that read “Jesus was a long-haired rebel against the establishment.” Waco was the home of Baylor University, a very conservative Baptist enclave and during her mortal life Amaliya had been the brunt of some nasty comments when in the area. She had to admit she had dressed to provoke. Already she had garnered a lot of uneasy looks due to her skin tight black skinny jeans, her high-heeled platform sandals with studded heels, her tank, leather bracers, and her straw cowboy hat adorned with raven feathers and a bird skull on the brim.

Samantha, meanwhile, was in blue jeans, a pale pink sweater, boots, and a dark-rose leather blazer. It was bitingly cold outside, but Amaliya was immune to it.

The waitress set down a refill for Samantha’s drink and stared at Amaliya’s arm for a long moment. “What happened to the middle of your tattoo?”

A scar adorned the spot where a rosary had been etched into her skin. When she had transformed, the image had burned away. “God doesn’t like vampires,” Amaliya said. “The cross went bye-bye.”

“Austin freaks.” The waitress rolled her eyes and stalked off, her full hips swaying.

“Could you be nice?” Samantha hissed, leaning forward, blue eyes narrowing.

“We’re in fuckin’ Waco.” Amaliya shuddered. “Why the fuck did we have to meet them here?”

“Because this is where they said to meet, bitch-face. Be nice.” Frowning, Samantha sat back, shoving her empty plate aside. “It took Cian a long time to get them to agree to this meeting. Besides, it’s all part of the big plan, remember?”

Exhaling, Amaliya tapped her black nails against the table. “I just hate Waco.”

“Yeah, I got that. You know, since you said that a billion times on our way here.”