Immortally Yours Read Online Free

him
into slipping her some details of where Seattle’s hip immortals hung out. She
might prefer to survive if she had someone to do it with.
    She’d been told her prescription would be ready in about
fifteen minutes so she decided to browse the magazine rack. She could look
through some of the local ads and see if there might be a clue as to any
immortal haunts.
    Now, which periodical looked promising? Ah-ha! Seattle After
Dark. She grabbed the paper and thumbed through it until she landed on the
section called Clubs.
    Dance clubs, an Elks club, gay bars, goth bars, Irish bars,
Knights of Columbus…wait a minute. Back up. A goth bar? That sounded promising.
Of course, she had no intention of offering up an O-positive snack to
anyone—she had enough problems. Oh well.
    At that moment, a rather goth-looking guy sidled up to her.
Where had he come from?
    “I notice you’re looking at the entertainment section. Would
you—uh—like to go out sometime?”
    She gave him a swift once-over. Stringy black hair. Nice
eyes, although black eyeliner was probably making them appear more prominent
than they were. A few too many piercings for her taste and, speaking of taste,
his clothes weren’t from the Gap, that was for damn sure.
    “Listen, I’m not into your thing. I’m more the opera and
expensive restaurant type,” she said, hoping to discourage him.
    “No problem. I’ll take you to the opera. Besides, how can
you tell what my ‘thing’ is? I’m into all kinds of music. I haven’t listened to
much opera but maybe it would be a nice change of pace.”
    Great. That’s just great. “Well, I have stuff to do
tonight.”
    “So do I. How about some other night this week? When are you
free?”
    “Um…let’s see. Tomorrow I’m meeting my lover for dinner,
Wednesday I’m taking care of his kids who are completely in love with me, and
Thursday I’m washing my hair. Don’t ask. It’s a big production.”
    “What are you doing Friday?”
    “Killing myself. Well, that is, if the medication I’m
getting doesn’t work. Wanna watch?”
    His eyebrows shot up. “Uh, well. Good luck with that. I have
to, um…”
    She placed a fist on her hip. “Wash your hair?”
    “Uh, yeah.”
    He backed away and left the store. She mentally shrugged. He
had probably followed her in there just to ask her out. It had happened before. Ah, the price of eternal youth and beauty.
    She returned to her mission of finding others like herself.
“Now if I were an immortal, where would I go? Oh, yeah. I am. But that vampire
wannabe sure wasn’t,” she mumbled.
    The pharmacist looked over his high shelf, gave her a
puzzled glance and quickly ducked his head.
    “Don’t worry,” she called. “I’m just talking to myself, not
to little green aliens.”
    The pharmacist chuckled. “That’s good,” he said. “I thought
he prescribed you the wrong stuff.”
    “Nope. I’m just plain depressed. Not plain crazy.”
    * * * * *
    Lizette had spent the loneliest weekend of her life indoors
because of the constant rain. If only she could call the good doctor and talk
to him on the phone. Of course, seeing his handsome self in person would be
better, but he was so damned expensive and she really had to budget like crazy
right now.
    On Monday morning, she called Dr. Brayer’s office. When the
secretary answered, Lizette asked for an emergency appointment.
    “May I ask who this is and the nature of your emergency?”
the secretary asked nasally. Her tone was so unimpressed and bored, Lizette
pictured her filing her nails.
    “I’m Lizette LaBelle. The shit—I mean, medication he gave me
isn’t working. I’m more depressed than ever.”
    “What are you taking and how do you know it’s not working?
How long have you been taking it?”
    “None of your fucking business,” Lizette snapped.
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It isn’t working. When can you
come in?”
    “How’s now for you?”
    “I’ll have to page him at the hospital. Can