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24 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 29, 2014
“Might as well kill me now.”Or the vampire's wife, who was hunting him down to kill him when they met.
“I won’t.”
“I’m a monster.”
“You’re just more literal than most.”
“I miss.” Those two words sound naked. He struggles to finish the sentence. “I miss when we could be dangerous to one another.”Even if you're a vampire -- or a vampire's wife, or his kid -- there's a lot to be said for being yourself. "A Kiss with Teeth" does a great job of mixing wry humor with creepy horror.
“You think you’re the only one who does? You think the PTA meetings and the ask your mothers and the how’s your families at work, you think that stuff doesn’t get to me? Think I don’t wonder how I became this person?”

Vlad no longer shows his wife his sharp teeth. He keeps them secret in his gums, waiting for the quickened skip of hunger, for the blood-rush he almost never feels these days.
The teeth he wears instead are blunt as shovels. He coffee-stains them carefully, soaks them every night in a mug with ‘World’s Best Dad’ written on the side. After eight years of staining, Vlad’s blunt teeth are the burnished yellow of the keys of an old unplayed piano. If not for the stain they would be whiter than porcelain. Much, much whiter than bone.
A game, he tells himself. Humans hunt these days, in the woods, in the back country, and they do not eat the meat they kill. Fisherman catch fish to throw them back. And this night run is no more dangerous to him than fishing to an angler. He leaves his oxfords on the schoolhouse rooftop and runs barefoot over buildings and along bridge wires, swift and soft. Even if someone beneath looked up, what is he? Wisp of cloud, shiver of a remembered nightmare, bird spreading wings for flight. A shadow among shadows.
He can’t go on like this. Woken, power suffuses him. He slips into old paths of being, into ways he trained himself to forget. One evening on his home commute he catches crows flocking above him on brownstone rooftops. Black beady eyes wait for his command.
This is no way to be a father. No way to be a man.
But Vlad was a monster before he was a man.
“Might as well kill me now.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m a monster.”
“You’re just more literal than most.”




At work Vlad pretends to be an accountant. He pretends to use spreadsheets and formulas to deliver pretend assurances to a client who pretends to follow the law.It contains one line I particularly like:
His wife Sarah has not tried to kill him since they married. She stores her holy water in a kitchen cabinet behind the spice rack, the silver bullets in a safe with her gun.
I miss when we could be dangerous to one another.Different context here but I think also a apt description of what love at its most passionate feels like: dangerous, like it will swallow you whole.