Cecy Robson's Weird Girls, are one crazy sibling bunch and our blogoversary won't be complete if they're not part of the party! Read up and enjoy their pre-party bickerings.
P.S. Taran is sooo snarky, LOVE HER!
Three Dog Night’s Never Been To Spain blasted away on Taran’s iPhone. I rolled over on my side and groaned. What I needed to do was stay home, kick back in front of the TV, and find a good Behind the Music rock doc rather than risk having my limbs chewed off by something big and fuzzy. “Do we have to go?” I muttered.
Taran stopped applying her mascara just to roll her blue eyes at me. “Celia, I know you’re anti-social and all―”
I sat up from the bed, my claws protruding from my annoyance at Taran. “I’m not anti-social. Call me crazy, but spending the night with preternaturals drunk off their asses on witch’s brew is not my idea of a good time!”
Taran popped the mascara tube back in her make-up kit and adjusted her cleavage beneath the tiny piece of black cloth she called a dress. I may have been the tigress, but she’s the one who hissed. “Son of a bitch, Celia. It’s not like we’re going to Hairy Bastard’s for beer and wings. This is supposed to be an elegant affair.” She fluffed her dark waves. “Only the mystical elite have been invited. How bad can it possibly be?”
“Hmm. I’m guessing probably as bad as vamp court. Do I have to remind you we barely got out of there alive?”
Another eye roll, and few more swears―this time in Spanish. As the second oldest sister, Taran was all about class.
Emme tucked her blond hair behind her ear while she leaned against the rail at the foot of the bed and examined the thick embossed invitation. She’d chosen a beautiful silver baby doll dress with a wide pink bow. Me? I was still in skinny jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of boots.
Emme nibbled on her bottom lip when she glanced back at me. “I can understand Celia’s concerns,” she said quietly. “It seems strange for them to invite us, considering we’ve remained hidden from the supernatural community for so long. I mean, with so many wealthy vampires in the Lake Tahoe region, why would Talk Supe invite . . . us?”
I retracted my claws and slumped back in Taran’s bed. “Who else would they feed to the vamps? The weres certainly aren’t going to let them have a bite.”
Taran wrenched away from her bureau and stormed toward the bed, looming over me with one of her more aggravated glares. Blue and white sparks from her fire sizzled over her head when Emme used her telekinetic force to hold her back. “Celia, you need to get out, stop being paranoid, and have some fun. There’s nothing to worry about, goddammit!”
I couldn’t hide my grin when I angled my head toward the Mistress of All Things Sharp and Pointy. “Then why does Shayna have seven knives shoved under her skirt?”
Shayna froze mid-text tapping before carefully smoothing her midnight blue gown. “Dude, you can see them?”
Taran ignored me to stomp across the room, her stilettos, click, click, clacking along the dark hardwood floor. She lifted Shayna’s hem and―behold, three, no . . . more like four daggers were strapped to each of her lanky thighs. “For shit’s sake, Shayna. It’s a party. We’re not planning to invade a foreign country!”
Shayna’s smile brightened as she punched Taran affectionately in the shoulder. “A girl can’t be too careful these days. Besides, puppy told me to come prepared.”
Only Shayna could refer to her goliath werewolf boyfriend as “puppy.”
Taran threw her hands in the air. “Prepared? If they have a metal detector there, you’re going to set it off like a damn siren!”
I sprawled across the bed. “And if they have a metal detector, it’s more reason not to go. Crap, Taran. I know you like a good party, but doesn’t Shayna’s need for underwear arsenal tell you there’s cause for concern?”
Taran huffed. “I’m not stupid, Celia. I know the witch bitches will be there, and most anything with fangs and fur. But if anyone messes with us or our shit, I’m burning the place to cinders.”
Emme’s face reddened as her eyes skimmed across the invitation again. “Um, I don’t think Braine and Debbie would appreciate you setting their property on fire.”
Taran waved off her nervousness. “They hang with beings capable of eating toddlers like spaghetti, trust me, I’m sure they're insured for shit like this.”
Shayna skipped across the room. A rare feet with that much metal so close to your happy place. She sat next to me and mussed my wild mane of curls. “Come on, Ceel. You have to come with us.”
I pushed my hair out of my face. “I don’t have to do anything.” My eyes narrowed. “And neither do you. It’s bad enough the mystical community knows who we are now and that we have friggin’ wereraccoons eating out of our garbage―”
“Aric’s going to be there.” She pointed to her cell phone screen. “And according to my puppy, he’s hoping you’ll be there, too.”The text was simple, but hit me like a freight train full of cattle, a few elephants, and maybe a Beluga whale or two.
Is Celia going? Aric wants to see her.
My body heat surged ten degrees and my female parts saluted the possibility of seeing Aric. I looked up at my sisters. Shayna’s smile widened. So did Taran’s smirk. Emme put down the invitation and her soft green eyes glimmered with hope.
I cleared my throat for all the good it did me. “Um, Taran, could I borrow something to wear? I have a werewolf to meet . . .”
Want more crazy Weirdness?
Cecy (pronounced Sessy) Robson is an author with Penguin's SIGNET ECLIPSE. She attributes her passion for story-telling back to the rough New Jersey neighborhood she was raised in. As a child, she was rarely allowed to leave the safety of her house and passed her time fantasizing about flying, fairies, and things that go bump in the night. Her dad unwittingly encouraged Cecy's creativity by kissing her goodnight wearing vampire fangs. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, she began writing her Urban Fantasy Romance Series, Weird Girls, in May 2009. THE WEIRD GIRLS: A Novella, debuts December 4, 2012 followed by SEALED WITH A CURSE, December 31, 2012, and A CURSE EMBRACED, July 2, 2013.