“Vamp-ouston, we have a problem.” Tory kept her voice serious and calm. Because, hey, this whole deal was serious.
“What?” Her not-as-smart-but-still-cool BFF, Wren, sounded totally baffled, and Tory couldn’t blame her.
“Vamp-ouston? You know, like Houston, but with fangs and stuff.” Dude, it totally made sense. Especially since Wren was currently living with her long-term (as in forever) fangy boy-toy in a mansion filled with other fang bearing peeps.
Were vamps peeps though? ‘Cause peeps didn’t usually do the whole “never die, drink blood” thing. Huh. Something to ponder another day. She was too busy dealing with her impending capture-torture-death deal.
“Shh! Is this a secure line? You can’t say my name! You can’t lead them to me. Big Brother could be listening.” Did Wren not remember all of their studying of the “In Case Tory is Caught Digitally Visiting Others Illegally” plans?
“Okaaayyy.” Wren drew out the word. “Person who is not Tory, what are you talking about?”