My Undead Life

By J.R. Pearse Nelson

School was hard enough when she didn't have to avoid the sun…

Angel Rose Channing didn't ask for the added drama of being turned into a teenage vampire. Her old problems with boys and gossipy friends sound downright easy compared with struggling not to murder people. She used to be able to make a mistake without somebody dying, but now everyone she knows is on the line.

And when Angel's hunger finally takes over, it's her best friends who are in the most danger. Her vampire sire insists she's a fool to try to keep up her normal life, but Angel's not giving up.

My Undead Life is inspired by two 1990s TV shows the author still isn't over.  And so…this mash-up emerged. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.R. Pearse Nelson
• Release date: Oct 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536521894

J.R. Pearse Nelson

J.R. Pearse Nelson is a fantasy and romance writer who has authored more than 20 novels. She hails from Oregon, USA, where she lives with her husband, two teens, and two dogs among the plentiful trees and clouds of the Pacific Northwest. J.R. weaves tales rooted in mythology, bringing legend to life in modern-day settings and fantasy realms. When not writing, you can find her making magic in the kitchen and enjoying long walks or "rambles" outdoors. J.R.'s books include the Moon Garden Mysteries paranormal cozy series, the Aeon Society fantasy romance series, and the Water Rites fantasy trilogy. You can connect with J.R. and learn more about her fiction at her website. Visit jrpearsenelson.com.

Book preview

PREFACE

This might be my strangest novella to date.

I wrote My Undead Life after realizing that a person my age, who’d had a standing Tuesday night date with friends for Buffy the Vampire Slayer for years when they were young (and streaming didn’t exist), could have a fifteen year old. Maybe she’d named that daughter Angel, after her favorite tortured hero. And maybe Angel didn’t have the best luck. She was turned the first time she really broke the rules.

Reader beware this story tends toward horror. If animal harm, violence, or teens dealing with dark choices trigger you, I would skip this teen vampire story.

For those choosing to proceed…enjoy this odd foray into one of the many worlds in my mind.

This story is best suited for those who came of age in the 90s, like me. It’s inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, and I always thought my Angel looked a bit like Cordelia in the first season of Buffy. Yes, I am a total Buffy nerd - feel free to ask questions. And yes, I follow the whole Scooby Gang on Instagram.

The title is a nod to another 90s TV show about a fifteen-year-old girl and all the struggles that accompany mundane adolescence, My So-Called Life. This is the show that introduced Claire Danes to the world. If you weren’t aware, you’re welcome.

Honestly, I wrote this book because the idea floated into my mind, took up residence, and wouldn’t leave me alone until written. I kinda like when that happens, and I am not one to argue with the muse.

WAKING UP DEAD

The buzzing of my alarm slowly permeated the thick fog of sleep. I slapped at the infuriating machine to make it stop, but I couldn’t quite reach it from where I was sprawled atop my bed. I cracked one eye open blearily and peered around, noting the deep gray walls and familiar crimson comforter. Definitely my room. Why was I still dressed?

The thought woke me up more, and I took stock of my surroundings. I was in my room, fully clothed and laying on top of my bed instead of in it. The alarm was going off, so that meant it was after seven. I checked the clock for verification. Yep, it was 7:11. School would start in a little over an hour. The blinds were pulled tight, but the tiny shafts of light that made it through teased my eyes with sparkles.

I blinked.

The light still carried a strange, faint sheen I’d never noticed before. Did I sleep in my contacts? They were pretty new, and I hadn’t gotten the hang of them yet. If Mom found out I’d slept in them, I was in for it. Julia said she did it all the time, but her Mom wasn’t as uptight as mine.

As I sat up, I realized how stiff my body felt. Maybe I was sick. I certainly didn’t feel well. I stood, my movements jerky and wrong-feeling.

Mom? I called, my voice creaking out in a creepy parody of me.

No answer. Figured.

I struggled to rise, focusing on moving each of my muscles independently. Why did I feel so weird?

Oh, no. It hit me like a lightning bolt straight to the face. Bullcrap in a hand-basket. A ridiculous effing notion.

I’d gone out with a boy last night. A cute boy with dimples and a smile that made my knees weak.

Lucas was the new guy in the small town of Banks, Oregon, with its single high school. He’d been so enticing, I’d hardly been able to get him out of my mind since school started two weeks ago. When he finally noticed me and asked me out, I floated on the clouds of my private fantasies for days before the date.

Lucas picked me up last night; he said he was six months older than me, so he’d turned sixteen already. His car wasn’t great, but it was wheels and more freedom than a girl like me was used to.

We cruised the curvy farm roads with the windows down, my hair streaming with the speed.

Vista Pointe.

We’d gone to Vista Pointe.

Oh, my god. Mom was going to kill me if this came out. I bit my lip, my eyes wide.

I’d finally managed to gain my feet, and taken two lurching steps toward the door by the time that thought occurred to me. I stopped in my tracks, heaving in a breath.

This was why I didn’t lie to Mom. I always got caught. It would be a cute boy that made me lose my senses and forget the inevitable pain Mom would inflict for my stolen moments of freedom.

I chanced a glance at the mirror, and nearly screamed. My dark hair was a nimbus cloud around my head and my eyes were strangely dilated. While I felt flushed and hot, my skin was beyond pale, like rich, white cream. My lips were more pale, too; a peachy shade where they’d been a rich pink before.

The scream I’d held in a moment ago threatened again. I pinched myself repeatedly, but didn’t wake from this nightmare.

This was wrong. I shook my head, wishing the apparition away, to no avail. Each time I looked I saw me – a pale, crazed-looking me that was barely recognizable as Angel Rose Channing.

It took several minutes of staring into that mirror before I became convinced that the girl I saw was, in fact, me. To top it off, twin puncture marks on my neck stood out in stark contrast to my pallor.

My mind went strangely calm at that point. Sure, I was just a fifteen-year-old girl, a girl who had no business going out with a boy who was obviously much more experienced, and, it turned out, a vampire. If I could blush over it, I would have, but I was slowly coming to understand I’d never blush again.

Angel? Mom’s voice echoed up the steep stairs of our tiny townhouse.

Now she wanted to talk? I’m up, Mom. Don’t worry.

Have breakfast before you go.

No time. Gotta go. I flung on a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt and tunic combo. The fashion critics had gotten harsh sophomore year, and I was usually more careful with my outfits these days. This morning my clothes were the least of my worries.

Twenty minutes later I thought I’d done a decent job of covering up the undead pallor and my terror at the bizarre twist my day – life – had taken. But when I headed downstairs my mother took one look at me and dropped the cup of coffee she was holding. It shattered as it hit the floor, spraying brown droplets across the room. I watched them fall with mild interest; to my mind it seemed to take forever, like I was seeing it in slow-mo.

Brave new world.

Not bothering to give the broken remains of her coffee a second glance, Mom rushed me instead. Are you okay? You look terrible.

She put a hand to my forehead. Mom was never more present than when there were germs threatening to take root under her roof. It wasn’t to be tolerated.

Your forehead isn’t hot, she said, like she didn’t quite believe the words. How do you feel?

Pretty terrible, actually.

Mom shook her head. Back to bed with you. I’ll call the school.

I