I could tell by the stern look on my mom's face that she wasn't even close to letting me off the hook until she got answers.

I heaved a sigh. "Doctor Drool is what I call that guy who came to see me in the hospital. He's an ego-tripping dictator."

Understanding lit up her eyes. "You mean, Adam Patrick?"

"Yeah. Only now he thinks he's the Crypt keeper."

"But he seemed so nice. And helpful."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, he's so helpful that he tried to get me committed to the nut house. When that didn't work, he locked me up tight in his secret lab so he could study me like a rat. Thinking that he'd found the cure to cancer, he decided to suck out all of my blood instead. He's a real prize."

She didn't seem convinced. "You make it sound like he thinks he's "Master of the Universe." Do you know where Adam is now?"

"That's a negative, Ghost Rider." Hey, if she could talk in movie quotes, so could I.

Mom gave me a look that could make jello stop wiggling. Permanently. "I think we can dispense with the drama, Chaos."

"Oh, trust me. I don't love drama. It loves me." I blew my breath out in a huff. "You would know that Doctor Drool was evil if you paid like a spec of attention when you met him. He's an insane psycho-freak, just like my dad."

Mom narrowed her eyes. "What is this sudden conflict with your father? You barely know anything about him." A mixture of embarrassment and disappointment adorned her face. "Speaking of strangers, you never told me how you two met."

Thomas looked to me for the answer, folding his large muscular arms over his broad chest and making the tight leather sleeves of his form fitting jacket practically moan in protest. "Go ahead, Chaos. Tell your mother how we met."

I took a deep, calming breath before launching into the explanation. I decided to start at the very beginning...uh, scratch that. I skipped the part where I first fell in love with Thomas on the other side. The memory of our time together when we'd promised ourselves to each other was just too raw. Especially since I'd pretty much broken all of my promises. Instead, I started from the time when he'd saved me from Beastie at my school, and ended with the part where I'd locked Thomas and Vycandor in a prison cell fashioned entirely out of ice at the Kalamazoo Castle. Even I had to admit I was proud of myself for that one.

Thomas decided to get in on the act. "We had the most spectacular view of Chaos as she unleashed an amazing display of violence against that four legged winged beast."

Mom crinkled her brow prettily, addressing only me. "You made a prison cell out of ice?"

My mouth dropped open. "Out of everything he just said, that's what you picked up on?" I shook my head as I stared at her in disbelief. If my story had any shock value whatsoever, she sure didn't show it. I was a fool if I thought I could crack her shell. What did surprise me was the fact that Thomas seemed proud of me, even if I had made him cool his heals on ice. "Speaking of the Ice King, where is Frosty?"

Thomas wrapped an arm around my waist possessively and pulled me toward him. "Vycandor is still out searching for Jade."

Neither of us said anything for a few frozen seconds.

Mom broke the silence first, clapping her hands together. "That sure explains why Chaos only wants to drink pickle juice," she said with a wink, referring to the curse. Again, if my aversion to drinking the blood of both of my boyfriends at the same time surprised her, she sure as hell didn't show it. "But, for the rest of us, we've got to get this pig-picking barbecue show on the road. This food ain't gonna eat itself y'all." She kissed me on the forehead and headed outside, carrying yet another pie.

"What is a pig-picking barbecue?" Thomas muttered to himself, almost as if afraid to ask. Not that I blamed him, of course.

Dazed and confused by my mom's reaction, I still couldn't help but smile. "That's just a nickname my momma gave her Hillbilly Hoedowns." I grabbed his free hand to lead him to the festivities.

Thomas seemed reluctant to follow. "I'd hate to find out what the nickname for a Hillbilly Hoedown is."

My smile turned into a full on grin. "Oh, that's easy. We call it a White Trash Bash."