I put a defensive hand over my abdomen. "Just put the bag down, Mallory."

She did, and we stared at it for another few minutes until I looked up at her. "I think I'm just not hungry for it. Surely it would be more appealing if I really, really wanted it."

"Are you hungry for anything?"

I scanned the library of cereal boxes on top of the refrigerator, the stash owing in part to Mallory's preparations for the rumored vampire apocalypse. "Hand me the box of Chunkee Choco Bits. The marshmallow kind."

"Done and done," she said, and slid off her stool. She went to the refrigerator, reached up, grabbed the box, and walked back to hand it over. I opened and reached into it, grabbing a handful of cereal, then picking through it to get to the marshmallows, which I popped into my mouth. "None for you?"

"Mark's coming over," she carefully said, "if that's okay with you."

Mark was Mallory's sweet but aimless boyfriend. I gave them two more weeks. "Fine with me. Make him bring Chinese. But if he annoys me, I'll probably have to bite him."

She rolled her eyes. "Vampire bitch."

I shrugged and picked through another handful of cereal. "I'm just warning you, I'm probably going to be a total hard-ass vamp."

Mallory snorted and walked out of the kitchen, calling out, "Yeah, well, you've got a purple marshmallow on your chin, hard-ass vamp."

I peeled it away and, between my thumb and index finger, flicked it into the kitchen sink. Stuff like that was going to ruin my reputation.

At twenty-five, Mark Perkins decided he wanted to swim the English Channel. At twenty- six, he decided he wanted to climb Everest. Then it was Machu Picchu, base-jumping, ghost-hunting in New Orleans and racing the Utah salt flats. Unlike Mallory, who rarely planned, Mark planned with a vengeance.

He just never actually did anything.

Tall and thin with short brown hair, he blew through our front door like a tempest, arms laden with guidebooks, maps, and two paper bags with greasy bottoms.

"Chinese!" Mallory squealed, leaping to the door when he came in. She pecked his cheek, grabbed a bag of food, and headed to the kitchen. I'd been reading again, so I returned the book to its spot on the coffee table.

He nodded in my direction, dumped his own books on the love seat, and followed Mallory. "Merit."

"Hi, Mark." I gave him a little finger wave and rose from the couch, but I paused before following him to check his literature. On the couch, their glossy, mountain-pictured labels read: The Greatest Adventure Book Ever, Climbing for Dummies, and Your Big, Fat Swiss Adventure. The Matterhorn, apparently, was next on Mark's list. Poor, sweet, dumb Mark.

"She's gone fang, Mark," Mallory called out. "So be careful."

Halfway to the kitchen, Mark stopped midstride and turned to face me, grinning like an idiot. "Kick. Fucking. Ass."

I rolled my eyes and snatched the remaining bag of Chinese. "Kick your own ass. Did you get crab rangoon?"

He frowned. "What do vampires need with crab rangoon?"

We moved into the kitchen. I put the bag on the kitchen counter and picked through it until I found the paper box of fried crab-and-cream-cheese-stuffed dough and a container of sweet-and-sour sauce. I popped them both open, dipped a wrap in the sauce, and bit in. They were still hot - and I groaned happily at the taste: sweet, salty, crispy, creamy. Everything a newly changed vampire could want.

"Orgasms, apparently," Mallory snarked, and pulled out her own containers of food. She pulled one open, then broke open a set of chopsticks, stared into the container, pulled out a chunk of broccoli, and munched.

"So, how long have you been the walking dead?" Mark asked.