Almost Final Curtain Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About the Author

  Praise for the Novels of Tate Hallaway

  “A fast-paced, hilarious paranormal romance.... The story captured this reader from the very first page, and is a must read for paranormal romance fans.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “Well paced and lightly written, mixing magic, romance, and humor to good effect ... perfect for lazy summer afternoon reading.”

  —LoveVampires

  “This paranormal romance overflows with danger, excitement, and mayhem; however, whenever things become too stressful, a healthy dose of irony or comedy shows up to ease the way. Tate Hallaway has an amazing talent for storytelling.”

  —Huntress Book Reviews

  “A truly enjoyable read if you like a jaunt into the paranormal ... and enjoy humor as well as the more serious side of life!”

  —WritersAreReaders.com

  “What’s not to adore? ... Tate Hallaway has a wonderful gift.”

  —MaryJanice Davidson, New York Times bestselling author of

  Undead and Unfinished

  “Tate Hallaway kept me on the edge of my seat ... a thoroughly enjoyable read!”

  —Julie Kenner, USA Today bestselling author of Demon Ex Machina

  “Will appeal to readers of Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse series.”

  —Booklist

  “[Hallaway’s] concise writing style, vivid descriptions, and innovative plot all blend together to provide the reader with a great new look into the love life of witches, vampires, and the undead.”

  —Armchair Interviews

  The Vampire Princess Novels by Tate Hallaway

  Almost to Die For

  Almost Final Curtain

  NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, May 2011

  Copyright © Lyda Morehouse, 2011

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

  Hallaway, Tate.

  Almost final curtain: a vampire princess novel/Tate Hallaway. p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-51427-6

  1. Teenage girls—Fiction. 2. Vampires—Fiction. 3. Witches—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3608.A54825A55 2011

  813’.6—dc22 2011004453

  Set in Minion

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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  For Shawn and Mason

  Acknowledgments

  As usual I must thank my editor, Anne Sowards, for all her work in making this book that much better, and my tireless agent, Martha Millard, for making it all happen. A hearty three cheers to my writers’ group, the Wyrdsmiths, for their critiques, suggestions, and support. In particular I have to thank Naomi Kritzer and Sean M. Murphy, who are the best and most dependable beta readers any author could hope for. Also, a shout-out must go to Maggie Jackson, my emergency teenager. My partner, Shawn Rounds, also performed the hero(ine)’s labor of proofing the final draft and continues to be my plot muse extraordinaire. Thanks also to my son, Mason, though he did his best to get Ima to play video games instead, for reading the galley of Almost to Die For and recounting all the funny lines to me out loud. It was an inspiration.

  Chapter One

  Rumor spread through Stassen High on whispers and tweets. Mr. Martinez, the drama coach, was spotted talking to the lead singer of Ingress—the one and only Nikolai Kirov.

  My boyfriend.

  Actually, Nikolai and I were only kind of seeing each other, since I was also “betrothed” to Elias Constantine, a vampire knight, but there was no explaining that to the cluster of giddy girls that swarmed around me like I was the queen of the world, and not just Anastasija Parker, the vampire princess of St. Paul.

  “Come on, Ana,” pleaded my sometimes BFF, Bea. “You must know something.”

  I couldn’t believe Bea was encouraging this lot to harass me. Of course, unlike me, she enjoyed being the center of attention. Normally, she and I were part of the outcast clique, and most of our interaction with this gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks involved slushies and slurs that conveyed their deep misunderstanding of the nature of Real Magic.

  Bea and I were witches.

  Well, to be precise, she was. I couldn’t cast a spell if my life depended on it, and believe me, there were times that it very nearly had. Being half vampire dampened my access to that particular source of power. But there were other kinds of energy I could tap. Our coven mostly tolerated me because of my abilities, but it was complicated.

  Kind of like my relationship with Nik.

  “He’s so cool,” one of the cheerleaders sighed. There was a wistful gleam in her eyes, the kind I’d seen in the eyes of a lot of the groupies that hung around Ingress after the shows. “Are you really dating him?”

  “Yeah. I mean, kind of.”

  The worst part was that every time I st
umbled over the exact nature of my relationship with Nikolai, I could see the hunger flare behind their gazes. Inevitably, the desire was followed by a measuring look full of jealousy and wonder at what I could possibly have that attracted a college boy in the hottest local band in the entire Twin Cities.

  I wondered the same thing too.

  “She is, no ‘kind of’ about it,” Bea said to the disbelieving sneers. “Nikolai is completely smitten.”

  I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought I heard a bit of envy in Bea’s voice too. The bell rang, saving me from protesting that sometimes I worried that his intense interest in me might have more to do with the fact that, in his spare time, Nikolai was also a vampire hunter. Or, at least the apprentice to the local vampire hunter, his dad ...

  Did I mention it was complicated?

  By lunch, I told Bea I couldn’t take it anymore. Even though we didn’t have a pass, we took our sack lunches and sneaked out to eat them in her car. Bea had this giant boat of a vehicle. It had bucket seats and smelled like your grandpa’s aftershave. Of course, she’d added the MY OTHER CAR IS A BROOMSTICK bumper sticker and the dream catcher dangling from the rearview mirror.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the doors clicked shut ... but too soon.

  “Text him.” Bea poked me in the arm. I shot her a frustrated grimace and almost got out of the car, but she said, “Come on. If you have some information, the grapevine will take care of the rest.”

  She had a point. If I had some crumb to toss everyone, they’d forward the news around themselves without constantly having to harass me. Bea clicked the key into lock position so we could watch the time and listen to the radio—the car was so ancient, it didn’t have a way to play MP3s. I dug through my backpack for my phone. Of course, it had to be off during school, and it took forever to power up.

  “You should get a cell made this century,” Bea said with a snort.

  “Hey, it was cheap, and it’s not like it’s rotary—or whatever Mom says”—I twirled my fingers like she always did—“where they had to wait for the zero. I don’t know. I never understand what she’s talking about. Okay, it doesn’t have a cord, at least.”

  “Might as well, at that speed.”

  When my phone finally finished turning itself on, I was surprised to see I already had a text from Nikolai.

  “Hey, he wrote,” I said, showing the phone to Bea.

  “Oh! Open it!”

  We put our heads together to peer at the tiny screen. With a gush of anticipation, I hit Accept. Seconds passed as the stupid phone deducted the minutes, and then finally the text appeared. It read: “Guess what? We R doing the music for your spring play. Try out! More 2nite.”

  Bea and I looked at each other and read the note again. “I thought we were doing My Fair Lady,” I said to the equally confused expression on Bea’s face. “Do you suppose Mr. Martinez decided to do Jesus Christ Superstar again or something?”

  In my freshman year, Mr. Martinez caused a big splash with the production of Jesus Christ Superstar. He rented a couple of real helicopters, which landed on the school lawn and poured out actors dressed like soldiers, who proceeded to “occupy” the school as the Romans had Judaea. It was the kind of production that got everybody—from the cheerleaders to the dirtbags—jazzed about theater. “Great Goddess, I hope not. There’s only one female role in that whole stupid musical. Let’s hope it’s Hair.”

  “Maybe he’s going to do Rent?” It was a well-known fact that Mr. Martinez was fabulously gay and liked to push the envelope a little, but even so, it would be a bit avant-garde for him to pick any musical written after the 1970s. “Can you imagine? Like, who would even try out to be the drag queen?”

  “Lane might,” Bea suggested. “He likes to be out there and doesn’t care what people think.”

  I shook my head. “The parents would totally freak out if Martinez really did Rent. Half the characters are HIV positive.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of retro when you think about it,” Bea said, pulling out a tuna sandwich from her bag. “Who worries about AIDS these days?”

  “Well, they should. It’s not like they cured it,” I pointed out, digging through my own sack in search of a bag of carrots. “But the play is kind of dated, and I don’t know the music; do you?”

  “Yeah, and here’s what’s weird: Mr. Martinez has only been showing us every production of My Fair Lady for a month. Why would he pull a bait and switch now?”

  I shrugged. Bea and I had drama class together at the end of the day. Most of the theater types took drama as an elective, and well over half of us were in each school production, even if it was only as stagehands. In fact, it was sort of assumed that if you wanted to be in a play, you needed to take Mr. Martinez’s course. It wasn’t a requirement, you understand, just how it worked out, and Mr. Martinez made no secret of it. So he often spent class time reviewing recordings of professional versions of that season’s show. By this time last semester, I was so sick of Macbeth that I half considered being truant just so I wouldn’t have to see one more performance of it. “I kind of hope he’s decided on a rock opera of some sort,” I admitted.

  Thing was, I couldn’t see myself as Eliza Doolittle, the lead in My Fair Lady. She was supposed to start off as all rough-andtumble and end up some kind of well-heeled British lady. So not me.

  With my mismatched eyes and superpale skin, I had a much easier time with roles like one of the Wyrd Sisters in Macbeth. I was awfully freaky-looking to be romantic-lead material. The only other speaking female role in My Fair Lady was the nanny, who sings along with the song about dancing all night. My stick figure did not scream matronly either. Bea’s kind of did, but I knew better than to point that out.

  That was just the way it always was, wasn’t it? Bea hated her curves and dark wavy curls; I envied them. She felt the same about my ramrod-straight hair and matching twiggy nonfigure.

  But we didn’t talk about that. We didn’t talk about much of anything, in fact. Instead, she and I spent the rest of lunch lost in our own musings about the play, although as I ate my pastrami on rye, my mind wandered back around to Nik. Having a locally famous rock-star boyfriend did strange things to my ego. At the shows when he shouted out to me or came over to talk at breaks, I felt superspecial. I could sense all the eyes jealously staring at me, wondering who I was to garner such attention from someone as awesome as him. Meanwhile, while he sang, I had plenty of time to check out the competition and most of the time I fell short in my own estimation. There were college-age women drooling over Nik, some of them looking like rock stars themselves.

  I figured it was only a matter of time before he dumped me for someone closer to his own age, someone more willing to, well, you know, help him live up to that rock-star reputation. Okay, just between us: we hadn’t had sex yet. I wasn’t ready. I was just sixteen, and really, we started dating only last fall, and trust me, with everything else going on while I was discovering that I was some kind of vampire princess, well, I was distracted.

  Plus, there was Elias.

  How do I explain him? He’s a vampire. But vampires are nothing like what you expect—they’re more like blood-drinking elves, except from hell. Literally. Only, the real hell isn’t the one in the Bible either. It’s older and stranger and, apparently, deeply hierarchical. Elias is a knight and acts like he’s from the Middle Ages too, with a lot of bowing and touching romantic gestures like that. My dad’s the local vampire ruler, but Elias is the one who makes me feel like a princess.

  And thanks to this one battle between True Witches and vampires where I accidentally on purpose bit him, we were betrothed—which normally meant “engaged to be married” in medieval times. I had no idea what it meant to vampires. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any rush in the vampire community to push Elias and me toward the altar. It seemed more like a peace-treaty thing that involved him “courting” me a lot.

  Totally off the subject, but the whole courting stuff was made of win. I
t involved a lot of flowers and being the center of manly attention, minus any pressure. I don’t even know if vampires have sex like we do. Well, they must sometimes, or I wouldn’t be here. But they were kind of another species. Though I know they have all the same parts, since I’d seen Elias naked—a lot. See, vampires liked to run around in the buff. Weird. But even so, Elias never even kissed me once. Maybe the whole biting thing was their version of sex.

  I’d eaten only half my sandwich when Bea pointed at the dashboard clock. “Oh noes!” she said in mock seriousness.

  But we’d be tardy for real if we didn’t hustle. I jammed everything back into my bag, in the hopes that I might have time for a snack during free period. Otherwise, my stomach was going to be growling all through the rest of the day.

  We got yelled at by Ms. Yang, the hall monitor, when she spotted us sliding in the side doors. But Bea was fast on her feet and came up with a convincing lie to keep her from sending us to the assistant principal’s office. Plus, as Bea talked, I felt a slight hum in the air. She’d cast a glamour spell to keep Ms. Yang off our case.

  Parting ways in the hall, I headed off to history, which was on the second floor and way in the back. I thought I’d be able to make it in time, but I miscalculated, forgetting about my sudden popularity. Three cheerleaders stopped me by the water fountain. “So I heard—,” one of them started with a snap of her gum.

  I cut them off. “Nik told me his band is going to do the music for the school play.” They started to open their mouths to beg for more details, and I waved them off. It wasn’t like they were going to try out for the play, was it? Or were they? OMG. What if all the cheerleaders and jocks auditioned? No, the thought was just too horrible, so I blurted out, “I’m sorry; that’s all he said. I’ve got to go.”