Crave (Harlequin Teen)

Unfortunately, his had always been better at hiding his emotions, staying an icy gray no matter what. Mine had an annoying habit of turning colors depending on my mood, making it impossible for me to hide anything.
    “Savannah, there are certain things you need to know about yourself,” he began.
    “Because I was sick for a day or two?”
    “Try five,” Nanna said.
    I was sick for five days? “That was some flu.”
    “You did not have the flu,” he said. “You are changing.”
    “Changing. Meaning…?”
    “I am a vampire. And your mother is a witch, along with your grandmother. This makes you a rarity in both our worlds, because my species of vampires are not supposed to be able to procreate—”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say you’re a…a vampire? Do you mean like the role-playing kind, where you get dressed up with plastic fangs and go to weird parties?” Was this some kind of twisted, late April Fools’ joke?
    Nanna moved to sit on the bed at my hip. She wrapped her warm, papery hands around mine. “Savannah, honey, I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Your father is a vampire. A special kind, called an incubus.”
    “A demon? ” I gasped, finding I could still breathe, after all. I’d heard about the incubi, read something about them on the internet or in church. But my mind was way too foggy to remember the details. All my thoughts kept circling around the same thing…Dad was claiming that he was a demon vampire. A real demon vampire. Which didn’t even exist. And my mother and grandmother were supposed to be witches. But that was impossible. They both went to church. Nanna even played the church piano every Sunday morning. Shouldn’t they burst into flames as soon as they set foot on holy ground or something?
    “Not quite a demon,” Mom said. “At least not full-blooded. He’s from a line of vampires that mixed with demons a long time ago.”
    Oh, that made it all better.
    Nanna added, “This gives them the ability to get energy two ways…through the traditional methods—”
    “Blood. You’re saying you…you drink blood?” I gulped, looking at Dad.
    He nodded. “We can also take energy through a kiss.”
    “Energy from a kiss.” My voice came out flat.
    They were all nuts.
    I slid my hand free of Nanna’s and flipped the comforter off my legs. “Okay. Um, I…I would really like a shower now.”
    Mom frowned. “Sweetie, don’t you have any questions?”
    “What’s to ask? Dad’s some funky kind of vampire that’s part demon and drinks blood, and you two do magic. And now you think I will, too, right? Because I’m…what did you say? Changing?”
    The carpet was cold beneath my feet as I stood up on wobbly legs. My weak body demanded I get back in bed. But no way was I staying here in the loony room. I had no idea what kind of joke they were trying to play, or if I was just hallucinating from lack of food. If this was a dream, the shower ought to wake me up pretty quick. On a whim, I pinched my forearm. “Ow!” Huh. That really hurt.
    Dad grabbed my shoulders, his hands ice cold as usual.
    Distracted, I frowned down at his hands. Ice-cold hands…
    “Savannah, stop this right now,” he said. “We are trying to have a serious conversation with you. You are not asleep. You are perfectly awake and lucid. And you need to learn what you are, and what you may become, before anyone gets hurt. There are certain…symptoms you will need to watch out for now.”
    The first glimmer of anger flared up in my stomach. Ordinarily I was careful about what I said to him, always trying so hard to be what he wanted, to say the right thing so he would be proud of me, love me. But I was too tired and freaked out right now to try and be perfect. And I’d had more than enough of this family prank.
    “Dad, you can stop worrying. There’s no way I’m gonna be jumping on anyone or sending things flying Carrie-style at school….” A sudden memory flashed through my mind of that Christmas when Mom sent plates and other objects flying at him. Weird. I couldn’t remember the plates actually leaving her hands now. Goose bumps raced over my skin.
    “Well, of course you won’t turn into Carrie.” Mom laughed. “Because we won’t be teaching you magic.”
    “It is the bloodlust we are more concerned about,” Dad said. “And if you do not learn to control it, you very well might end up jumping on people at school.”
    Giving in to the insanity for a second, I