Entry #21

I Can Dig It
by Jaye Wells


Digging graves is hell on a manicure. But Grandma Lavinia always said good girls clean up after every meal.

My job completed, I leaned on the shovel. The moon was high—plenty of time left before sun rise.

A twig snapped off to my right. Sniffing the air, I realized it was just David. Probably coming to give me shit.

He stalked into the clearing.

Yep, definitely pissed about something.

"What's up?" I asked, playing it cool. Grandma always said a true lady avoided confrontation until absolutely necessary.

"Do you want to explain to me why you are standing over a fresh grave?"

So much for easing into the conversation.

"This grave?" I asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, Sabrina. What happened to bagged blood I gave you?"

"That stuff tastes like shit, David."

He sighed, familiar disappointment in his eyes.

"You know I have to report this."

"Come on. It was just a stupid drug dealer. He was selling to children, David. Though, I have to say, nothing beats the taste of cannabis mixed with blood."

A muscle worked in his jaw. "The law is the law, Sabrina. It's my duty to inform the Council."

With surprise on my side, I swung the shovel in a high arc. The decapitation splattered blood all over my new dress.

Great, in addition to a massive dry cleaning bill, I had to dig another grave.

But smart vampires dispose of problems—even if the problem was a friend.


[Jaye disposes of writing problems at www.jayewells.com.]