His Eyes are Blue

Summary: I'm-as you probably know- Faith de Silva. And I'm in love with Magnus. Now, all I gotta do is protect him and keep my deep passion covered. Oh. Yeah. That'll be easy.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Meg Cabot or Mari Mancusi.

Chapter One: Bertha the Vampire Slayer

"So we need to- Faith?"

"Mm-hmm?" I asked dreamily, wondering what it would be like to French the person speaking.

Charity made coughing noises, giving me a sharp look. I stuck my tongue out at her. I have every right to daydream about Magnus!

Except I don't.

You see, Magnus, though the hottest thing on Earth, is of the vampire persuasion. He enjoys drinking blood, staying away from crosses and stakes, and sleeping in a coffin.

Actually, that coffin thing is a myth. I should know.

I'm a vampire shifter.

Since my parents had me, their lovely daughter, and Nick, their annoying son, as mediator/shifter hybrids, we help vamps, they help the other various undead things.

And get this: there's gonna be another one of us.

Yep. Mom's pregnant again.

Charity, my Gothish best friend, is a vampiress, female vampire. She's kinda Magnus's right hand vamp right now, since he's the new coven leader. I, on the other hand, am Mag's partner.

His partner that's madly in love with him.

"Focus, Faith," Magnus sighed. He doesn't know about my obsession with him, thank God. "We need to find out how to destroy Bertha."

"Who the heck names their kid Bertha?" Charity asked. She looked thoughtful. "Then again, who the heck names their kid Magnus?"

He shot her a glance with those sapphire blue eyes. "It was King Henry's time period, for crying out loud!"

"Hey, can either of you drive all that well?" I asked suddenly. Magnus promptly began laughing.

"What?" I wondered.

"The thought of Charity driving," He gasped.

"Oh. So I guess she's not that good?"

"I hit a pedestrian on my first try," Charity said with relish. Did I mention that she's kinda... out there?

"Then can you teach me, Magnus?" I pleaded, giving him the puppy dog eyes.

"Do not," He warned me. I just stuck out my lower lip. He's easier than my dad.


"Yay!" I squealed, leaping over to wrap my arms around his neck. "Down, girl," He sighed, pushing me off. Charity shot me The Look.

The Look that goes 'calm down, moron'.

"Look," I asked, "Can you two come to the Halloween dance at my school?"

"A dance?" Magnus asked, "Don't we seem to have a bad time with that?"

Yeah. Two unfortunate incidents.

I shrugged. "It'd be fun. Plus I'm not in the mood to make out with Ben, and he'll be there."

Magnus glared at Charity. "We're going."


I woke up the next morning at four am to the lovely sound of Mom throwing up. She's three months in, and having extreme morning sickness.

Groggily, I reached for the phone on my nightstand and dialed Charity's number.

"Hey. You awake?"

"Vampiress, remember? I never really sleep."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot."

"You're gonna be an excellent vamp shifter."

"Mom's throwing up again."

"Ugh. How many more months of this will you have to take?"


"Wanna go to McDonalds? It's funny to come in when it's pitch dark. They stare at you. Oh, where something flashy. The zitty kid at the register gapes."



"Hey, you're right, he does stare."

I was wearing a denim mini with stiletto heeled knee length black boots. And also has a red tank top with my trusty hand-me-down leather jacket.

Charity: All black.

"So, what's up with you and Mag?" Charity asked as she downed some 'tomato juice'. I was the only one who knew what it really was.I hit her on the arm.

"Nothing," I sighed sadly. "Just friends."

"He's sooo hot for you," She smirked, looking at a black painted nail.

"Yeah, right," I snorted, "And I'm a belly dancer."

She stared at me. "Are you?"

"Anyway," She sighed, "I'm glad that you've come to terms with your feelings."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I'm so in love with-"

Charity's eyes widened and she put a hand over my mouth.

"Don't say a word. Just hide."

I obeyed and crawled under the table, her following. A flabby looking woman with a bad blonde perm and unstylish clothes was talking to Zit Face.

"Who's that?" I hissed. Charity turned to me. "That's Bertha."

"The Vampire Slayer?"

"No, the cowgirl. How many Berthas do you know?"

I shrugged.

"I have a great grandma Bertha."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

We watched Bertha order a double cheese burger with extra mayo-OK- and with the stupid luck that we have, she sat down at our table.

Gosh, she has bad legs.

She's apparently one of those people who kicks her legs around, since Charity had to hold back a yelp.

'She wears heels' she mouthed to me, rubbing her head.

Suddenly, there was a loud, "Hmm..."

'Oh, geez,' Charity mouthed. I was guessing that there was a small splatter of blood on the table.

I rolled my eyes. Great.

Luckily, Bertha didn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, since it turned out she was going 'Hmm...' because they forgot to add pickles.

But who knew what would happen next time.


Who are you most like, Faith or Charity?