Chapter Seven
I’m in a hotel bathroom vigorously attacking my teeth with a toothbrush.
This attempt at personal hygiene is long overdue. Turns out, without the routine of daily sleeping, it’s hard to remember to do such things with any regularity.
Maybe I should set a timer on my phone to remind me to brush in the future?
Then again, do I even need fluoride anymore?
I’ll have to ask someone how they find my breath, but something tells me vampires don’t get gingivitis or halitosis. And I bet our teeth don’t yellow over time either.
I know one thing for sure. With an all-liquid diet, I’m never going to floss again.
Suddenly, my vampire super-hearing picks up a noise that sounds like someone opening the door and creeping into the room.
My seer sense—and common sense—rings an alarm.
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