Twice Bitten (Chicagoland Vampires, #3)

by Chloe Neill

“I have cold pizza if you want some,” she said, “but I’ll warn you, it’s a little . . . different.” I picked up a foot-long black feather and twirled it in my hand. “How different?” “Catcher Bell different.” She opened the fridge, pulled out a wide, flat pizza box, and shut the door again with a bump. I leaned up and used both hands to push containers out of the way, leaving a bare spot big enough for the pizza box. This one was from another Wicker Park joint, the kind that made artisanal pizza with goat cheese and organic herbs. It wasn’t my favorite, but it definitely had its place in my repertoire. Hand-pulled crust, homemade sauce, coins of fresh mozzarella. “How different could it be?” I asked. And then she placed the box on the island and flipped it open. I stared at it, tilted my head at it, trying to figure out what, exactly, he’d done to pizza. “Is that celery? And carrots?” “And mashed potatoes.” It was like being dumped all over again, but this time by something I never imagined would hurt me. I looked up at Mallory, despair in my eyes, then pointed down at the pizza again. “Is that a pea? On pizza?” “It’s some kind of shepherd’s pie thing. His mom was experimenting one day and made it, and it’s the only good thing from his childhood or something, and he paid the restaurant a buttload of cash to make it.” My shoulders slumped, and my voice went petulant. “But . . . it’s pizza.”