I mean it, too. Though she drives me crazy at times, overall when it comes to moms, mine's about as cool as you can get.

She's like a "friend mom." Sunny and I can talk to her about pretty much anything (besides hair dye and vampires, of course) and she's completely nonjudgmental. She doesn't sneak into our rooms and read our diaries or go on Mys.p.a.ce to make sure our profiles are appropriate. (I'm RaynieDay, BTW, if anyone wants to friend me.) My friend Ashleigh's mom grounded her for like four weeks when she found out Ashleigh had posted s.e.xy pics of herself on Mys.p.a.ce. Not that I have any s.e.xy pics posted, just FYI. (Sorry DarkGothBoy.) So yeah, she's okay. If not a little overprotective at times.

After we pull away from the hug, I notice something surprising. "Hey, Mom, what's up with your outfit?"

Wow. The woman who LIVES in bell-bottom jeans or long flowered skirts and peasant blouses is currently standing in front of me wearing a s.e.xy little black dress with high heels and a pearl necklace. I can't believe I'm just noticing it now. Observe much, Rayne?

"Oh, this old thing?" she asks, blushing furiously as she smoothes the front of the dress. "I've had it for years."

"Just FYI, that'd be much more believable if you'd re-moved the price tag," I suggest, gesturing to her sleeve.

"Oh." The blush deepens as she reaches to rip off the tag in question. "I guess I've just never worn it."

Eesh. The woman is the worst liar in the known universe. "Spill, Mom."

She sighs and motions for me to come into her bedroom. I follow, plopping down on the old-fashioned, four-poster bed that Grandma left when she died. It would be an elegant piece of furniture if Mom hadn't covered it with a Technicolor-hand-st.i.tched quilt from her commune days. Still, I've got to admit, overall the room is pretty cozy and homey. When Sunny and I were little and big thunderous storms would crash through our neighborhood, we always ran to the oversized bed, crawling under the covers with Mom and Dad. Only then did we feel warm and safe.

Um, anyway . . .

So Mom shuts the door behind us and joins me on the bed. She tries to pull her feet up and under like normal, then realizes she has a nice dress on and chooses to cross her ankles daintily instead. I have to bite my lip not to laugh.

"So?" I prod.

"So . . . I've got a date," she whispers, her eyes alight with mischievous excitement. She's totally forgotten that she's p.i.s.sed at me about my hair.

"A date?" I cry. "That's awesome!"

She studies me, her gaze turning motherly. "Are you sure? I mean, I know that's got to seem a little weird. Your mom dating someone."

"No! It's not weird at all. I think it's great." After all, I've been dying for the woman to get out of the house for years. Pining away in a nunlike existence-hoping the next time the door opens my dad will walk through-is just not a way for someone to live.

Even a mom. "So who's the lucky guy? Where did you meet him?"

I wonder for a moment if I should tell her about Dad coming to the b-day party, but decide not to rain on her parade just yet. We've got nearly a week to break the news and I (don't want to ruin her big date.

Her cheeks pinken. It's adorable. I love seeing her so excited. "Actually I b.u.mped into him at the harvest co-op last night,"

she says. "Literally. We were both reaching for the game frozen chickpea burgers."

I smile. Obviously love at first sight. With the only other person in the known universe who would actually eat a chickpea burger. "Very nice. And he asked you out?"

"Yeah, we're going for dinner at Abe and Louis in Boston."

I whistle. "Fan-cy."

She giggles. I haven't seen her like this in years. Maybe in forever. I love it.

"Where's this guy from? What's he do for a living?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I didn't interrogate him in the frozen foods section, Rayne."

"Right. Well, definitely find out all the 411 tonight," I say, mothering my mother. "We want to make sure he's the right guy for you. We can't have you going out with just anyone."

She laughs. "Okay, dear. I promise I'll get you the full scoop."

At that moment the doorbell chimes. My mom jumps off the bed and is at the door in a flash. "That must be him," she lays, looking back at me with a grin. "Wish me luck!"

I hold up crossed fingers. "Luck!" She scurries downstairs and I take the opportunity to peek out her window, which offers a good front porch view. There's a guy at the door-dressed in a tux, no less. I can't make out his face, but he seems well built, with a full head of hair. Not hippielike at all, either, which is probably for the best. And the coolest part? He arrived in a limo. Crazy.

Anyway-Mom on a date, and me off the hook for my hair-coloring experiment. Time to head to the Blood Bar and save the world.

POSTED BY RAYNE MCDONALD @ 8 P.M.

FOUR COMMENTS:

Spider says . . .

Ooh, Rayne-I can't WAIT to see ur new hair. You gotta take a camera phone pic and send it 2 me ASAP! And your mom on a date? Whoa!

SunshineBaby says . . .

Mom's on a date? A date? You let her take off with some strange guy without even meeting him first? What if he's some psycho killer? Wasn't there one in the news the other day? And did they catch him? I don't think they caught him, Rayne! OMG! Mom could be dating the psycho killer right now.

If she's not home by eleven, I'm so calling the police. Or maybe by ten. Gah! She needs to start carrying a cell phone so we can check in with her. I can't BELIEVE you let her go.

Ashleigh says . . .

Your mom is way cooler than mine, Rayne. I still can't believe my mom grounded me over my Mys.p.a.ce profile. I mean, puh-leeze.

The pics weren't even that bad. It wasn't like I was naked or anything. Just hot. But she's all, like, "Oh, the perverted old men are gonna see them." Like I'm going to friend some perverted old man. What-EVER. Anyway, now I'm on Facebook instead and she has no idea. Sweet!!!

DarkGothBoy says . . .

You don't have to post s.e.xy pics on Mys.p.a.ce, baby. Just e-mail them directly to me. Or better yet, how about you come over and I'll take some pics for you? I got a new digital camera for my birthday and I'm dying to try it out. And, oh? Don't you feel like a loser? Your mom is getting more action than you are. Tsk, tsk.

10

TUESDAY, JUNE 5, 1 A.M.

Bite Me, Bay-Bee!

I've got to stop with these late nights. They're totally killing me at school. Today (or yesterday, if you consider it's once again past midnight) I slept through Algebra II, American History, and three quarters of Art. (Sooo embarra.s.sing to wake up facedown in a palette of paint. Took me a half hour to scrub the stuff off.) Being a slayer is like having a second full-time job. Luckily I'm not really a homework girl to begin with or I'd be so screwed.

But enough about boring old school. You guys want to hear about the Blood Bar, right? Of course you do.

So I wait 'til after dark and then head on over. My buddy Vin Vamp (a.k.a. Francis) is back on the door tonight, which is a total relief. I so didn't want to have to whip out my painfully bad fake ID again and try to act all convincing.

"Hey, Frannie," I greet. "How's the biting?"

"You're back," he observes, folding his ma.s.sive arms across his chest and staring at me with cool eyes. "Couldn't stay away, eh?"

"Nope! You know me," I say playfully, punching him lightly on the arm. "Well, actually you don't, I guess. But you will.

Soon. I plan on becoming a regular. You'll see me every, night. We can develop clever nicknames for each other and banter a while before you let me in."

"If I let you in."

"See? Banter." I smile sweetly. "We're well on our way to a beautiful friendship already."

Francis tries to hide his smile without much luck. He totally thinks I'm adorable, I can tell. "You know, Shaniqua," he says, still calling me by my fake ID name, "you're really a piece of work." He shakes his head. "Okay, okay. Come on in." He pulls open the door and gestures inside.

But something makes me pause at the door. I look up at Francis's face, studying it closer. While he does seem amused, there's something about his smile. Like it doesn't quite meet his eyes. And I don't mean in some secretly nefarious, up-to-no-good, one-of-the-bad guys way.

He just looks ... a bit sad.

"What's wrong, Frannie?" I ask. "No offense or anything, but you look like someone just ran over your pet bat."

Francis rubs his bald head with the palm of his hand. He really is a big oafy looking dude for a vampire. "My blood mate is missing," he confesses. "If you must know. And I'm worried sick about her."

I've explained the blood mate thing, right? Well to recap real quick, each vamp, once they hit a thousand years old, gets to turn one willing human into a vampire. They do all this complex DNA testing beforehand to make sure the human and vamp will be compatible. 'Cause after all, they're destined to be together for all eternity, so you want to make sure it's a good match. For example, I was matched up with Magnus originally, before he bit Sunny by mistake. Luckily twins share DNA so those two were still compatible.

Bottom line, a blood mate is sort of like a soul mate, except without that whole messy soul part. So needless to say, the two vamps are usually attached at the hip. Like an immortal BF/GF with no way to ever divorce.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, genuinely feeling bad for the guy. I mean, that sucks, right? What if his blood mate met a new vamp and took off to Vegas, like Dad did? Leaving poor Frannie here all alone in the world with major trust issues.

Francis kicks the ground with his toe. Let me tell you, the guy's feet make Michael Jordan look like a midget. I'd hate to meet him in a back alleyway.

Oh, wait, we're in a back alleyway. Uh, never mind.

"Her name is Dana. She works here as a biter," Francis explains.

Of course, I'm all wondering if a bouncer dating a biter is as cliche as a bouncer dating a stripper. But Frannie looks so upset, I decide not to ask. And really, who am I to judge?

"Three days ago, she called in sick. And she hasn't shown up since. She's not been back to the crypt. In fact, I've searched everywhere for her. It's like she's dropped off the face of the earth."

"I'm sure she'll turn up," I say, trying to sound comforting. I pat him on his big hairy forearm. "Don't worry."

He grins ruefully and pats me on the head. "Thanks," he says. "You're probably right. Nothing to be concerned over." He gestures to the door. "Would you like to go in?"

"Please."

I walk inside, once again enveloped by the dim lighting, smoky air, and crimson interiors, this time soundtracked by the band She Wants Revenge, crooning from some hidden overhead speakers. I can't say I'm surprised to learn that vamps dig Emo.

I enter the lounge and approach the hostess.

"Hey, I'm back," I say, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "Can I get the same biter as yesterday? Jareth, I think his name was? He was uber hot."

I giggle to myself as she checks the list. Jareth's going to be so annoyed when he sees me again. But, hey, I'm just simply following orders. If he has a problem with me, he'll have to take it up with Magnus.

"Sure. He's not with anyone at the moment," the hostess says. "Go ahead to room six and I'll send him in."

Perfect. I thank the woman and head behind the curtain to room six, praying that Jareth doesn't take forty-five minutes to show up this time. I forgot my Game Boy DS and I'm so not the type of girl who can just sit around and twiddle her thumbs contentedly. Besides, we've got a mission to accomplish here. No time for goofing around.

Luckily it only takes about five minutes for the door to open and "Hotness" to walk through.

"Hi, my name is Jareth, and I'll be your- G.o.d!" He curses as he lays his eyes on me.

I raise an eyebrow. "You'll be my G.o.d? Hm . . . Well, we'll have to see about that. I mean, it takes a lot to rock my world these days."

His powder-white face pinkens and he quickly changes the subject. Heh. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?" he growls. "I thought I told you I work alone."

"And I thought I told you I don't listen to stupid, pig-headed vampires. And if I didn't, well consider this fair warning."

"Watch out, little girl," Jareth says, looming over me, raising his arms in what I a.s.sume he means to be a threatening, evil gesture. "I am a creature of the night. I am not to be toyed with."

I roll my eyes. "Ooh. I'm scared."

He lowers his hands and huffs in annoyance. "Well, you b.l.o.o.d.y well should be. I could bite you, you know."

"And I could stake you," I say, rummaging through my messenger bag to pull out the chunk of wood Teifert gave me. I stand up and wave it at Jareth's face. "One false move and...POW!"

Jareth stares at the stake, then at me, then back to the stake. Then, to my surprise, he bursts out laughing. "What?" I scowl, so not appreciating his reaction. After all, I am a vampire slayer, right? He should be shaking in his boots just at the mere sight of me.

"What... the h.e.l.l ... is that?" he asks, between chortles. He's laughing so hard he's holding his stomach.

"A stake."