Hi, Waverly Aficianodos, Chapter 20 here for your reading entertainment. I hope you enjoy it! If you do, don't forget to vote! Oceans of thanks!!!

Why does it have to feel so amazing to have your blood sucked out of your body by a hot, funny, sexy vampire poet? Here's what it's like: my body is totally relaxed; my limbs feel like I've just gotten back from a transoceanic swim. My heart is pumping hard. His body is cool next to mine. And the place where his fangs are piercing my neck is the center of my universe. It feels like pure energy and attraction.

So when he pulls away after just a few seconds, I scream nooooo! Don't stop! in my head and grab for him, but all I get is air. Because of Pickles' spell I can't even see him, and he's obviously used his evil vampiric abilities to jump away from me at speed. Sometimes I really hate vampires! "More!"

I hear a totally sexy deep-throated laugh from ten feet away. "No, Waverly. I know you want me to drink all of your delicious mermaid blood, but I'd like to keep your circulatory system up and running to manufacture more of the tasty treat."

"You are so ..."


"Yes, how did you ... know?" Ugh, right, I totally forgot what it was like having him in my head. Utter, intrusive, mortification.

"Sorry, Wave. Let's go on this ill-conceived spy mission. I don't know what you think we're going to find out at a dinner party, but we better go now before Pickles' spell wears off. Fairy godmothers really need to get their act together. Why don't they concentrate on spell longevity? Seems like a fairly essential spell component."

I feel his arm snake around my waist and his warmish lips press against mine. "Maybe you need just a tiny bit more blood?" I offer.

He blasts us into the sky, his laugh almost lost in the whistling of the wind we are creating as we pass through the atmosphere.

Pierce brings us to the top cabin on the yacht where candlelight flickers from the windows. We touch down on the deck. Inside the cabin, Crumpet, Sharkweather and Shelly are seated at one end of a long dark wood table. All down the center of the table are silver candelabras and elongated silver bowls filled with strange feral-looking fruits-some shaped like sea urchins, others with claws, spikes or tentacles.  The walls are "decorated" with stuffed leopard, hammerhead and nurse sharks attached to rectangles of wood, like some sick art form. I shudder. There are wooden pillars with shark carvings at each corner of the room.

"I can barely hear them through the glass," Pierce says.

Interesting. Vampire-proof glass.

It's so weird that I can't see, Pierce-only the white hull he's standing in front of, but I do notice a subtle rippling in the air where he must be. He takes my hand and squeezes. I really like this and not just because I need reassurance. I try not to think about the electric feel of his strong, cool hand in mine because I don't want him to know.

"I already know, Wave," he whispers into my ear.

"Someday, Pierce, I am going to figure out how to read your thoughts, and you are going down!" I whisper.

"All my thoughts are of your strength and beauty, Waverly. You are like a mountain draped in a cloak of snow, shimmering in the winter's light."

You know, I think he uses poetry as a weapon, sort of the same way he uses those dimples of his. I melt every time. Must resist!

Pierce laughs softly. "Maybe we should go back to school if you're nervous?" he whispers.

"No! We have to get inside."

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