Author's note: I didn't actually write this all myself. This is - or used to be - a book that my oldest sister wrote when she was 13 or 14. First our parents were raving about it, then both sets of grandparents were raving about it, then more of our extended family were raving about it, then everyone at our then-church was raving about it. Then in 1999 (or something like that) we flew to freakin' Minnesota to visit my Dad's relatives and there were people who I'd never seen or heard of in my life, and THEY knew about it. I'd say it was starting to drive me up the wall, but it already was. I was bloody sick of all the praise; you'd think it was 'Great Expectations' the way everyone was so pumped up about it. There were even rumors that it was going to be PUBLISHED. I don't even remember how it all died down.

Fast forward at least 8 1/2 years. My sister is now in her 20's and I find the old manuscript of her book and remind her of it. Turns out, she HATES it now, and can't believe she ever wrote such a lousy piece of lovey-dovey, syrupy greevel (her inspiration for it came from us setting up the dining room for our parents' wedding anniversary, or something). So I tell her that I could make it better by graffiti-ing it. Graffiti-ing books is a talent of mine. Not a marketable talent, but a talent nonetheless (and I'm not prideful about it). I believe her exact words were: "THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!"

First thing I did was set it in modern day (or something resembling modern day), because it was originally set in 1857. Then I changed all the characters, mostly to people from Underworld, but there are names from other things as well, including original names. Then I added overly exaggerated, totally random things that made what was once unintentionally funny intentionally funny.

This is the final result. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1 - In Which We Schlep Around In Bone-Chilling Weather and Freeze Our Asses Off

Budapest, Hungary – Snow covered the sidewalks of the city, slowly turning to wet slush as pedestrians and bikers went back and forth over the frozen concrete. The Budapestians were busy people; they weren't about to let a little frozen water vapor get in the way of the regular city stuff and daily thingamajiggies. The morning sun, sending out golden beams to undo the work of the gray clouds, discovered pesky icicles clinging for dear life on the eaves of the buildings that bordered the bustling city streets. Freezing water dripped slowly – and not so slowly – from ice-hung trees and decorative bushes; a seaweed tree shed its burdens with creaks and groans.

In the outskirts of the city, boys shoveled driveways begrudgingly – school was out, owing to the fact that the building got blown up by a six-year-old in an F-16 (luckily, there was no one in the building at the time) – but all the while they were eyeing the ankle deep snow and telling each other how perfect it was for snow-football.

Near the center of the city, there was, incredibly, more activity!! The streets were full of cyclists, cars, and trucks. Kids dodged back and forth, trying to escape their parents. Men strode purposefully along the sidewalks, or stood together, remarking how inconvenient the snowfall was for the building of the new 22,000-capacity stadium for Budapest Honvéd FC, the local football club. Apparently, some bone-headed idiot (who had obviously grown up near the Equator) decided to break ground in February, when the ground was frozen solid as marble and one needed a jackhammer just to dig a hole that was only six inches deep. Cliques of teenaged girls chatted together, full of the latest gossip. Coffee and hot chocolate stands were in abundance, for business was always good when there were freeze-ass temperatures; little knots of people formed around the portable store-fronts, obstructing the flow like rocks in a stream.

Oblivious to the crowd that rushed and foamed like a Colorado rapid, a young man lycanthrope and a vampiress stood on a street corner yakking.

Girls sulked and threw envious looks at the girl; the young man was – judging from his thousand euro coat and general attire – filthy rich, not to mention hot. His face was well made; the jawline was smooth and slightly pointed, and his nose was pleasing, ever-so-slightly crooked. The wind played delightedly with his hair, a river of chestnut brown that spilled from his head to just below his shoulders. He had a twinkle in his dark eyes; they contrasted unexpectedly with his firm, solid eyebrows that promised a stern and dignified appearance in the future.

The girl was white and fair; her butter-blonde hair was twisted up underneath a fuzzy black winter hat, and her face was sweet and feminine. Well… duh to the latter. The eyes were blue-gray pools surrounded, on the upper lid, by a curve of long, dark lashes; the rest of the face was smooth and undisturbed. Her voice could just be heard, floating like a cool breeze above the noises of the city.

"Maybe we should go to the confectioner's for the yummy stuff, Lucian. Seriously, one can hardly expect the grocery store to carry so darn many varieties. Besides, most of what they have is inappropriate for younger kids," she added.

"Ditto!" the lycanthrope – Lucian – answered. "I nearly broke a tooth on one of those peanutty-toffee whatchamadingles. In fact, Sonja, I'd probably have choked to death if you hadn't heimliched me." Looking up and seeing that the pedestrian light had turned green or blue or whatever the heck color it turns in Hungary, he offered Sonja his gloved hand, and they stepped off the curb and crossed the street.

"This was a good idea," remarked Sonja, gathering her expensive Tommy Hilfiger coat closer around her; the wind had begun whistling briskly, temperatures dropped another five degrees due to windchill.

"Uh, what was?" asked Lucian, his mind elsewhere. He guided her around a Pit-of-Carkoon pothole as if she were blind and couldn't see the thrashing tentacles.

Sonja looked rather exasperated. "We were just talking about it, Lucian! Getting candy and stuff for the younger servants and blah blah. I love seeing their delighted faces get all sticky." She laughed, then sighed. "It sucked that Lord Viktor wouldn't let us put a Christmas tree for the servants in that little corner room. What the heck do you think could possibly be in there?"

"What? You mean the South Wing Lounge?" asked Lucian. "I've never seen the daddanged door open in my life."

"Yeah, but why do you think he shut it up like that?"

"I have no idea," said Lucian, stifling a snicker.

Sonja looked at him with eyes full of amusement. "Remember that time when you tried to get in?" she asked, smiling.

Lucian laughed. "Yeah." He now shook with laughter. "You should have seen it! He totally freaked! And I was there! He went all red!" He tried to go on, but couldn't speak and belly-laugh at the same time. "I've said this before, 'drawing Viktor is easy, you just make a big mouth and add some hair'!"

Afraid Lucian would pass out from laughing, Sonja decided to change the subject before she had to get on her cellphone and call the paramedics. "I don't know about you, but I'd personally like to see the inside of that room. It must be positively remarkable."

"Oh, it's already that. And not necessarily in a good way. If only Viktor hadn't declared it off-limits."

Sonja sighed again. "I'm sure he must have had his reasons. But I would like to see it someday. Can you imagine watching The X-Files in it?" Sonja fell silent, thinking of the 52-inch plasma screen TV that probably resided inside the room.

Lucian turned slowly to look at her, almost as if he had just received a transorbital lobotomy. Quickly, he transferred his gaze to—the hot brunette walking in front of them. Beh! The sidewalk!

"Yeah, that'd be terrific," Lucian mumbled indistinctly. He glanced at her again.

For a moment Sonja's eyes, turned unseeingly toward the street, were dreamy and deep; then a troubled look came over her face.

"What?" asked Lucian.

She didn't reply immediately. At length she said, "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just a little concerned about Viktor. He seems……"

"Cantankerous?"

"No."

"Rancorous?"

"No, dumbass!"

"Constantly crabby?"

"Disconsolate. It seems unnatural."

Lucian stifled a wild guffaw. "Want to know what's unnatural? Viktor smiling, or wearing any kind of expression besides a glum or angry one. If he told a funny joke rather than explode in someone's face like a freaking land mine, then I'd get concerned, because THAT is unnatural. Trust me, Sonja, he's acting just like he always has. At least in my lifetime."

Sonja dropped the subject. It was going nowhere.

After they had bought their candies and stuff, the two young people made their way back toward their car.

"This candy should be sufficient," Sonja informed Lucian, examining the clumsily wrapped bundles; she drew the cloth back over them protectively as they passed under a tree that schlumped heaps of snow onto them.

After they dug themselves out of the snow mountain, Lucian threw a hungry glance toward the shopping bag. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra, would you?" he asked.

Sonja rummaged around in the bag and produced a single banana shaped candycandycandycandycandycandycandy. "One."

"Mmm, thanks. I love candycandycandycandycandycandycandy," Lucian stated, as if this was something new and turned the tiny yummy thing into a sugar orgy.

"So I hear."

Awkward silence.

Presently Sonja started to speak again. "Man, I hope Viktor doesn't carp about us spending so much money."

"If he does, well tough beans to him," said Lucian. "The money that was used was mine anyway – out of the dough that I made when I was still playing for my college football club. He wouldn't be seen dead doing something like this for his loyal servants – the old fricked up fuddy-duddy. Only you could have thought that up." He stole a glance at her, watching for her reaction. One of his favorite pastimes – next to football and CSI: Miami – was to say things, or pose a problem, and watch how Sonja responded.

She didn't see the glance, but continued on, blithely unaware of anything but a perfectly honest motive in his comment. "Lucian, you know as well as I do that the idea was every bit as much your idea as it was mine."

Lucian fell silent, pondering this; realizing that Sonja didn't give a crap, or even believe that it was her idea. She wasn't just trying to curry favor with him. Too bad he wasn't like that; too often he gave himself all the credit. At least he was aware of his fault. That showed that he was still salvageable. And he hadn't taken the credit for this idea – maybe he wasn't so horrible after all.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a shrill voice, hailing him from across the street. "Hey, Lucian!" it cried.

Lucian glanced over in the direction of the voice, and let loose the groan to end all groans. A young vampire girl named Dominique Ačimovič hurried across the road, her purple velvet scarf blowing this way and that in the wind. She hugged her lavish, fur-trimmed coat to herself.

"Lucian!" she called again, grinning from ear to ear; it made her mouth seem wider than Guy Smiley's; Lucian half-expected the top of her head to flap back and forth when she spoke. "OMG I've been looking for you all day! Dashboard Confessional is coming to the Torghelle Nightclub, and you positively HAVE to come with Nicolae and Diego and me! OMG Incubus are opening, of which I am SOOOO glad because Brandon Boyd is SOOOO hot!" she added, with an inane giggle. "I told Nicolae and Diego that you are the best crowd surfer in the world and that you were sure to come. Won't you? Please? PLEASE? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezzzz? Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseprettyplease? I just bought a brand-new Ford Mustang, and Kahn is bringing his Ferrari, and you've got to come! We really couldn't do without you!" she concluded in a breath. Her smile was sugary sweet as she gazed up into his face; Lucian was hard-put to stop himself from grimacing. He didn't care much for Dashboard Confessional. Or Incubus, for that matter. The mere thought of going to see them with a hyper vampire trollop and that slimeball Nicolae, both of whom he couldn't stand, was more than he could bear.

"Thank you for the invitation, Dominique," he said gravely, trying to quell his disgust, "However, I'm—"

Here Dominique broke in, aghast. "Aw, come on, don't say you can't come! We totally couldn't do without you, you and I being such old friends and all," she declared, with an insinuating glance through her fake eyelashes. "You can ride in my Mustang, of course – the other boys can ride in the Ferrari – and we can listen to Stereophonics on the way! Do come, it'll be so much fun!" Dominique halted, noticing Sonja for the first time; her giggle trailed off. "Oh, hey, Sonja, fancy meeting you here," Dominique said, in a tone that made it abundantly clear that she was less than pleased about it. "What's up with you and Lucian – trying to get him to buy Titanic for you?" she asked maliciously. "I'm surprised he even condescended to walk with you, let alone enter into deep conversation."

"What Lucian does is his own daddang business, and none of yours, so back off," said Sonja coolly. Only her smoldering eyes betrayed her indignation.

Dominique ignored the remark haughtily and went on in her malevolent tone. "By the way, Sonja, Lorenz will probably arrive soon from Székesféhervár. You know, of course, that he's thinking of going to a military school there. He's bringing a buddy with him – Michael somebody. But of course, neither of them would ever dream of looking at you."

"Beat it!" Sonja snapped.

With movements as twitchy as a blue-tailed skink, Dominique turned her back to Lucian and started walking away.

"Daddang, I freaking hate those presumptuous schuttas who thrust themselves unceremoniously in front of people like that," Sonja remarked to Lucian, in an icy, incensed tone.

"That makes two of us," replied Lucian, giving Sonja a sidelong glance.

Sonja was about to protest, but upon catching the twinkle in Lucian's eyes, bit her lip to check her sudden giggle.

Dominique stopped for a moment, slightly confused by – and jealous of – the silent interplay between Sonja and Lucian. Disregarding it instantly, she rattled on as before. "Don't even think about refusing," Dominique repeated breathlessly. "I'll be counting every second," she crooned. With that, the girl bolted like a squirrel.

Sonja and Lucian stood still, looking after her. Sonja's face was cold and expressionless, like a wax statue; Lucian's was a mask of no-holds-barred disgust.

Sonja was the first to break the silence. "Well, Lucian?"

"What?" he responded, a bit impatiently, his mind was somewhere else.

"Are you going to accept her invitation?" Her tone was flat, but underneath was a vein of anxiety.

Lucian regarded her blankly. "What do you think?" he asked.

Unexpectedly, they caught the sound of a car horn. Turning, Lucian and Sonja beheld a jet black Cadillac Escalade careening down the street at sickening speeds – pedestrians dove for cover as motorists swerved onto the sidewalks in an attempt to avoid being plowed over by the rampaging SUV.

Lucian's brow darkened; drivers like that should have their license taken away and their vehicle impounded.

Suddenly a small boy, for no apparent reason, dashed out into the middle of the street. He slid on the snow and shrieked with laughter, landing on his back and spinning around. The boy was blissfully unaware of his grave peril as the massive Cadillac tore toward him.