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  Better Off Undead

  Providence Paranormal College Book Seven

  D.R. Perry

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2016 D.R. Perry

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 2.0 June, 2021

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64971-841-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-842-6

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Night Crew

  Signs Point to Yes

  Connect with the Author

  Also by D.R. Perry

  Other LMBPN Publishing Books

  Chapter One

  Speed Dumping

  “It’s not you, it’s me.” Della Dawn sighed, her voice more dramatic than the entire Rhode Island College Theatre Department. I knew, because they’d performed in Night Creatures’ last indie-produced music video, along with Della, of course.

  “Seriously?” I blinked, then stared at my soon to be ex-girlfriend’s static expression, marveling at the fact that her voice could be this expressive with her face still as a stone. I’d always found that trait of hers one of the most interesting things about her. Well, besides the fact that she smelled amazing. All the other vampires I knew thought so, too. Except for my guitarist, Matt.

  “I think we should see other people, Lane.” Della’s hands curled around the hot coffee I’d just brought her.

  “Well, I don’t.” I wished I had a cup to hide my anguish instead of empty hands that trembled until I pressed them flat on the table. But of course, vampires don’t drink coffee, so I’d saved my money like an idiot.

  “You could have fooled me.” Della’s left shoulder lifted, displaying a lacy bra strap under her off-the-shoulder blouse. I couldn’t help but stare at the shoulder she’d probably never let me touch again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you play at that Nocturnal Lounge for free all year, play a party for that dude-bro Redcap, and vanish to who knows where that whole night and the next without me.” Della didn’t pout. Maybe if she had that whole train-wreck of a month might have gone down differently. “You only think about your band, Lane, and they’re not even that big a deal. Some girls might be able to deal with that, but I’m not one of them.”

  I blinked again and took a deep breath through my nose, which only made the whole thing worse. All I smelled was her perfume and the way it perfectly enhanced the scent of her blood. Being a vampire already sucked, but getting dumped made it even worse. By the time I opened my mouth to try to convince Della to stay, it was too late.

  The sway of her hips was brisk and deliberate as she turned her back on me and walked out of Blue State Coffee. I stared, only managing to get my eyes above waist level to notice her holding that nearly fresh cup of coffee by the lid, with one hand. She held it over the trash can, let it dangle for half a second, then dropped it in. Della pushed the glass instead of the handle to open the door, leaving her fingerprints all over it just like everything else she’d touched. Then, she stepped across the threshold under the red-lit exit sign.

  And I couldn’t move. I felt as trashed as that coffee she’d tossed, the potential of actually having a decent evening leaking out like her discarded brew out of the paper cup. The only impulse I had just then was to cover my face with both hands and sob. But I refused to be that stereotypical vampire guy, ugly-crying in the middle of a busy coffee shop right before a poetry slam. I got up and let my feet take me away because they had to know more about where to go from here than my blindsided heart and mind.

  Out on the street, I hunched my shoulders, my hands in my pockets. Yeah, I guess I had something to hide. Maybe I should have told Della more of what was going on with me after Fred’s farewell party. I got chased around Providence by a creepy dude in a yellow suit, ending up in the freaking Under of all places because an imp and a crazy cat shifter played me harder than Eddie Van Halen usually whaled on his guitar.

  What had stopped me? There’d always been something special about Della Dawn. She had this effect on me, the kind that ties stomachs up in knots and infests them with butterflies. We’d been serious for three months, from the night I noticed her leaning against the back wall of The Living Room at a gig, right up to that slow walk she’d taken out of Blue State Coffee. That was a long time for me to date someone. Even before I got turned, I hadn’t done much more than date a girl for a few weeks or have “special friend fun time” with groupies and barflies. I’d really thought Della and I were going somewhere, that we might even be destined like my friend Henry and his girl Maddie, but clearly, Della wasn’t on that bandwagon.

  I sighed, staring down at the Sharpie-decorated toes of my Converse All-Stars. That was why I ran headfirst into the staple-studded telephone pole and tore a few layers of skin off my forehead. I wondered whether it was in the shape of the letter L for “loser.” Then I glanced around, hoping no one had snapped a pic on their phone and sent it to the vampire tip line. I didn’t think Josh Dennison’s mom would press charges against me for spacing out over a breakup.

  It’s against the law for vamps to walk around with an injury this obvious. So if I don’t act fast I could end up spending most of the night in the clink. That would have been insult added to injury and just my luck lately. That night, my life seemed worse than the cynical movie character Mom had named me after.

  “Yo, Lane.” Pete clapped me on the shoulder, almost knocking me over in the process. What can I say? Drummers tend to have powerful arms, but Pete also had a Psychic power that enhanced his strength even more than most vampires’. He grinned, not daring to bare his fangs by smiling on a street as crowded as Thayer. “You gashed your head pretty bad. Get in the van.”

  I nodded, bowing my head and letting my buddy guide me to the battered old vehicle we usually piled into for gigs. In the back, Pete handed me a bag of blood from the cooler we always kept stocked. I drank it fast, applying the undead regenerative energy directly to my forehead.

  “Why the long face, Mister Meyer?” The flat-voweled voice from the front seat belonged to Matt Gardner, Night Creatures’ guitarist.

  “Della dumped me.” There wasn’t any point in fibbing about something like that with Matt around. He had some kind of lie-detecting Psychic ability. Our absent bassist had Telekinesis, but a weak enough form that he only bothered with it to keep his glasses from falling off. I was the only member of the Night Creatures with nothing special in the powers department. Just the fangs and sunlight allergy for good old Lane, apparently.

  “Lame.” Pete shook his head. “But I think I’ve got just the remedy for your problem.” He rum
maged on the floor, then held up a flier in one massive hand. “It’s Vampire Speed-Dating night over at Cafe Paragon.”

  Before I could protest, Pete pushed me out of the back of the van. I heard the driver’s side door close, and the locks engage when Matt left the vehicle. He pocketed the keys, the gesture bouncing his dreads. My bandmates flanked me, walking along on either side so I couldn’t just high-tail it for some other part of the city. I walked back up Thayer Street, staring straight ahead. When we got to the big red and silver sign on the corner, I took a deep breath I didn’t physically need and went inside.

  The speed-dating people had taken over half the place. Round tables had metal stands in the middle, cardboard cubes with numbers painted on the sides impaled on them like heads on spikes. I turned to walk back out the door, but a solid wall of Pete stopped me. I sighed and headed over to the lady scribbling names and contact information on a clipboard.

  “Ohmigosh, you’re not serious?” The blonde woman smiled brightly, as though wanting to show the world she wasn’t a vampire. “We have half the Night Creatures here to speed-date too?”

  “What do you mean, too?” I turned my head, squinting at her out of the corner of my right eye.

  “Oh, it’s not important.” She beamed like the headlights on a four by four, or maybe an overpriced hatchback. “Just sign in, mmkay?” She pushed the clipboard at me in a distinctly unladylike fashion. Just as I was starting to relax and appreciate the absurdity of this situation, I saw the reason why Miss Smiley had said, “too.”

  The Jack Steele Band was there, each member already seated at a numbered table. They always beat us in the qualifiers for Newport’s Battle of The Bands, and we’d entered religiously since 1998, before we got turned. Also, I knew Jack from way back. He’d been my guitar teacher before the Reveal, and during part of it, even. Apparently, he’d been good enough at hiding his vampirism to avoid most of the mess that came when extrahumans got outed to the general public. After he’d registered as a vampire, he’d turned into one creepy dude. At first I thought it was an act, but there were rumors associating him with an illegal blood Doll ring ten years ago. Unfortunately, my predicament was even worse than just running into my old, shady teacher.

  We’d arrived at Paragon for the second round of speed-dating. Jack and his eponymous band had gotten there first, so they already had ladies sitting across from them. And guess who occupied the other seat at Jack’s table, giggling at the jerk while hanging on his every word?

  Della Dawn, that’s who.

  “Shazbot.” Matt was straightedge and didn’t swear. Ever. Claimed it helped him keep his urges under control or something. He dragged Pete out of my way, understanding that there was no way I’d stick around to watch that. To his credit, once Pete noticed the situation, he grumbled and came along with us.

  My bandmates followed me out, something that pissed me off at first. But when I turned down Angell Street headed for Lovecraft Square, I changed my mind. Having Matt and Pete with me turned out to be a good thing. I turned left to take the long way down the Trolley Tunnel because its darkness matched my mood. After it was too late to turn around, I heard a gritty voice saying words no almost-famous vampire ever wanted to hear.

  “Mr. Meyer, we’d like a moment of your time.” A dude Pete’s size grinned, stepping away from the patch of wall he’d been leaning on.

  “Wouldn’t everyone?” I shook my head. “This really isn’t a good time.”

  “Mr. Gitano sends his regards.” A second voice, still deep but more like a diving pool than the deep blue whatever, came from behind us.

  “Tony can send me regards in person. It’s not like he doesn’t know where to find me.” I shrugged and took a step toward the Nocturnal Lounge end of the tunnel.

  “Um, Lane?” Matt poked me in the back with a finger. “Um, I don’t think these guys mean Tony when they’re talking about Mr. Gitano.”

  “And why is that, Matt?” I thought I might know, but hoped I was dead wrong.

  “Um—” Matt mumbled something I couldn’t have comprehended even if I’d been a Telepathic Psychic. His constant “um-ing” was getting on my last nerve, too. I snarled, turning my head to bare my fangs at him. I backed down when I saw how freaked out he was. But the Gatto Gang thugs interrupted.

  “Because you owe something to Mr. Gitano, Mr. Meyer.” The owner of the second voice peeled off from the wall, stepping closer to us than the other guy had. I could make out his face. I knew him, too.

  “Paul Armati.” I knew Paul was one of the newer enforcers in the Gatto Gang. And I knew Fred’s aunt, who used to babysit him. I grinned, letting my mind make a bunch of goofy pictures for the appearance of bravado, but it didn’t improve my mood. “Wish I could say it’s good to see you, but like I said, this night’s lousier than a fleabag motel. Bad news city. So, you guys have my phone number. Call any time that isn’t tonight, okay?”

  “We can’t do that, Mr. Meyer.”

  “Dude, call me Lane, okay?” I sighed, realizing I couldn’t exactly blow off organized crime guys, who also shape-shifted into large predators in a dark alley no matter how much I wanted to. “Mr. Meyer’s my father.” I didn’t add that he only acted like a dad when the Alzheimer’s let him remember that fact. But I wasn’t about to auto-correct my slip-up and show weakness in front of these guys.

  “Okay, Lane.” Paul held his hands slightly out from his sides with the palms in, a posture I knew meant he was ready for trouble. “Well, like I said, you owe Mr. Gitano. And he’s got an idea that’ll help you clear your debt to him.”

  “Let’s forget for a minute that I don’t know what I owe him or how I came to owe it.” I shot a dirty look over at Matt, who seemed to know more about this than his Psychic polygraph power should reveal. “What’s this idea?”

  “The Newport Battle of the Bands is coming up at the end of the month.” Paul smiled. “And Mr. Gitano wants Night Creatures to win it.”

  I blinked, not understanding how that idea would work, anyway. It made absolutely no sense in so many ways I could barely get my brain around the concept. I opened my mouth, but Pete beat me to the punch. That was fine with me. I didn’t like confrontation.

  “But we didn’t qualify for the Battle of the Bands last month.” Pete scratched his head. “We can’t win if we ain’t qualified.”

  “Oh, but you did qualify.” Paul’s smile got even bigger, his bicuspids and canines slightly longer than before and his usually brown eyes going greenish with a vertical slit. If his animal side popped out like this when he was in a good mood, I definitely did not want to deal with the enforcer in a bad mood.

  “And how did we manage that?” I tilted my head to the side briefly, then righted it. The last thing I wanted was to look like a moron. It was probably too late for that, though.

  “Technicality.” Paul practically purred. “The band slated to challenge the Jack Steele Band, well let’s just say both their guitarists had unrelated and unfortunate hand accidents. And Night Creatures was next on the list.”

  “So, what do you think?” The other guy cracked his knuckles.

  “Sounds like a great idea to me.” I didn’t even care anymore about the mysterious and probably shady debt. All I could think about now was finally being able to prove my band was better than my old music teacher’s. And, of course, convince Della she’d made the wrong choice about dumping me for that old Jazz Era has-been. “We’ll do it.”

  Paul chuckled, then turned his back on us. I listened to his footsteps, and his associate’s as the pair of goons brushed by us toward the nearer tunnel exit. Matt breathed a sigh of relief way bigger than any self-respecting vampire should have been holding.

  “See, John?” I heard Paul’s commentary echo back at us. “Told you it was an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “But how in the hell are we going to beat the Jack Steele Band, Lane?” Pete practically wailed the question the big green monster had pushed completely out of my head. We’d never b
eaten anyone in any of the music contests, never even won a local award. All we had going for us was popularity with non-industry people. It was entirely possible we’d all be at increased risk of unfortunate hand accidents or worse ourselves if Gitano thought we couldn't win.

  “No idea, Pete.” I smacked my forehead with the palm of one hand, curling the other into a fist. Then, I walked up the tunnel, toward the only place I might find a sympathetic ear, maybe even a little help, and knocked on the wall.

  Chapter Two

  Lounge Lizard

  I leaned my forehead against the concrete wall of the old Trolley Tunnel, fist rapping the knocking pattern that’d let daylight-averse students at Providence Paranormal College through the secret door. Of course, my feet had auto-piloted to the Nocturnal Lounge. I murmured a few choice words, thinking the door wouldn’t open. It was summer vacation, after all. But I thought wrong. The concrete vanished, granting me access to the stairs.

  No one would be there, I thought as I headed up. Even Lynn Frampton, the brainy human majoring in PPC’s equivalent of extrahuman pre-med, had only enrolled in online courses for the summer sessions. But when I got through the door, I discovered I couldn’t have been more wrong. I peered down from the mezzanine into what looked like an impending brawl.

  “Can it, cat brains!” Blaine Harcourt actually stood, glaring down at a trench-coated fellow instead of just making his eyes roll from a sofa somewhere.