It’s Christmas at the Cressida House and all Hell is breaking loose.
Tree? Decorated and lit. Elf on a Shelf? Seated with style. Baby Jesus on the mantle? Fourteen neatly in a row. Life sized Nutcracker? Creepy, but standing proud. Invitations sent to entire immortal family to celebrate the holiday? Possibly the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done.
Mixing Heaven and Hell on my cousin’s famous birthday seemed like such a brilliant idea. I wanted my baby’s first Christmas to be special—memorable. I’d like chalk my heinous idea up to having been fallen down drunk, but that won’t fly as it’s insanely difficult for a Vampyre to tie one on. So instead I’ll deal with obscene gifts from relatives, kidnapped rock stars and catering by Mother Nature.
To complicate matters, our new family pet thinks the whole house is his toilet. Ethan and I can’t even find a room with working lock on the door to spread a little holiday cheer.
Never, never again. Christmas from now on will be at a freakin’ spa for the undead—no poles for dancing and no slumber parties with the Devil.
I just have to make it through the next twenty-four hours without beheading a beloved one.
Merry freakin’ Christmas—and Happy New Year.